Sublime Awakenings
by Kailean
Summary: Released from the DHMI, Squee attends hi skool. In recent years life has become stable, but it starts to take a familiar turn for weird when Shmee is returned and the problem maybe bigger than himself. IZ CrOv, ZaDr & Pepsquee. More Details Inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: Squee's First Job**

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Warnings: None for this chapter, I think, but this is where warnings will go in the future and they will be needed. :) This story is rated M for violence and sexual implications.

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Todd Casil brushed dark bangs from his eyes, making a fruitless attempt to keep them at bay by tucking them behind an ear, as he leaned over the circulation desk to sign his name to the contract.

"You sure about this, kid?" asked his prospective boss, who was now leaning onto the desk across from the youth, his chin propped up on hand, an elbow nearly on top of the contact. "You seem too nice for this kind'a position. Being a grade-A jerk is in the job description ... and the contact, ya know." He smiled the sinister and teasing smile that was his trademark.

Looking up just long enough to make eye contact, Todd smiled back. His smile was more gentle than the man's, but full of amusement and eager defiance. "I know." he replied, his brown eyes returning to the contract as his hand moved over the line, tracing his name in neat, elegant and practiced letters."I never sign anything without reading the fine print."

The man followed his gaze down to the desk and looked over the contract, finding that everything was in order down to the kid's name: Todd Casil, though he had requested to be called "Squee" for some reason. "Right. Nice doing business with you, Mr. Casil ... umm ... Squee."

Todd cringed at being referred to as 'Mr. Casil', the name of his father and, even worse, his grandfather, but recovered quickly as his boss seemed to be a fast learner. "You too. So, I'll see you tomorrow at five to begin training?"

He shook the outstretched hand of the owner of the all new and revamped Video Out House, now known as Roc'n Rob's Media and Accessories. Well, at least it had been all-new last year when Rob Hummel, the long-time and "Jerk of the Decade" employee of the most intimidating video store in town had finally saved up enough money to buy the place and remake it in his own image ... which was slightly scary. Todd had been fifteen at the time and not old enough for work. Plus, there was the small inconvenience of still not being completely released from the Defective Head-Meat Institute until about a week ago.

On his way out he stopped by Trendy Subject to purchase the required apparel for his new job: namely dark clothing advertising the music, movies and games sold at Rob's. The two stores had an agreement whereby the employees of each store got a discount at the other. Afterwards, he headed to the food court to meet Letta, the daughter of his councilor, Dr. Brian Douglas, for an early dinner before Wednesday night Mass.

Todd wasn't particularly religious, or pious by any means, not so much because of a lack of belief, but because of a lack of faith. Before meeting Brian, his exposure to religion was limited to a small bit of televangelism and some supposedly distorted memories of one of his only friends, Pepito, being the son of Satan. Despite these memories, none of the letters Pepito had written him in the last eight years suggested that he was anything other than a somewhat strange child and oddly devoted friend.

Brian, however, was a stanch Catholic. Going to church with him got Todd out of his "parent's" house two nights a week ... something he had already began to appreciate greatly after moving home just last week. It also usually resulted in his spending the night, which was fine by him and more than fine by the people who refused to call themselves his family.

After making his way down two escalators and into the middle of the second floor of the City Center Mall where the food court was located, Todd scanned the area for Letta, his gaze passing somewhat disturbingly over herds of people who seemed to belong in a stockyard. Many of them already had the calls down. Finally, he spotted the dirty-blond-haired girl sitting at a table in the corner.

Because of all the commotion, she didn't hear him approach until he took a sat across from her. When she heard his chair slide in, she looked up from her magazine and fixed her green eyes on him.

"Hey Squee," she said cheerfully.

"Hey. Sorry I'm late. There was a long line in Trendy Subject and the cashier wouldn't stop flirting with me." He sighed.

"Heh. Yeah. That's what I call a happy problem. You do know those girls can sense angst like bloodhounds smell prey, right?"

"Are you calling me emo? Cause if you were, I would have to write dark poetry about it, which I would then read to you over the phone in the middle of the night and post online ... on your My Face page."

"Is that a threat? No, I'm not calling you emo. You just seem a little down for someone who just got released from Hell is all." She pushed a tray with a warped sub sandwich and bottle of spring water across the table to him. "Here, since you were late I got you food so you wouldn't have to wait in line."

"Sorry. It's just the residual effect of being around my parents. Thanks a lot for the samwich." He forced a small smile as he unscrewed the lid of the water.

Letta frowned. "I still don't understand why the courts gave you back to those people," she said darkly.

"For some reason, they think it's best when children are with their natural parents instead of someone who will actually love them. Pulse, my parents never physically abused me ... much. They mainly just let the asylum do it for them." He unwrapped the sandwich and prepared to take a bite. " At least I only have two more years before I'm free of them."

"That's true. And I guess with the new job and skool you won't really have to spend that much time with them anyway. Plus, you can always hang with me at the dorms." She smiled deviously. "I could take you to parties and use your cuteness to get me dates."

"What am I, a puppy?" He stifled a laugh.

He received a smile and a nod. "Yep. Pure breed too."

"You're such a freak!" he yelled in mock exasperation before laughing audibly.

"What can I say? Lesbians like cute boys. They just don't want to sleep with them."She laughed too, and secretly plotted to give Squee an 'oh so fabulous' makeover that would be sure to attract all the honeys. While a cute, little Squee could definitely get her a date, a cute, little, _gay_ Squee could get her much, much more. She decided to change the subject before her thoughtful silence revealed her evil plan. "So, you started hi skool this week, right? How are you liking that?"

"Oh. It's okay. Better than I expected and much better than the D.H.M.I. I have some classes with Dib, though somehow I ended up with the same horrible teacher I had in second grade for Honors English."

"Ah. That's really good to hear. I hated hi skool, but then I didn't have something like the D.H.M.I. to compare it to. Sorry to here about the English teacher. I know that's your favorite subject."

"Eh." He shrugged. "The public skool system isn't really for learning anyway. It's annoying, but I'll deal."

She nodded. "So, did you meet that green kid Dib is always going on about?"

He smiled at the megalomaniacal insanity that was Zim and wished he could tell Letta that he probably really was an alien. "Yeah. He's pretty crazy in a humorous, though annoying, sort of way."

"Crazy? Crazy how?"

"Oh, you know, the standard bent on global domination with maybe some genocide on the side kind." He smiled humorously to assure her, falsely, that it was a joke.

"Superiority complex, huh? Yeah, I know the type. Wait. I am the type. So are you, now that I think about it. And Dib too. Humm. Does it count as a complex if you really are better? But then, how do you know if you really are better or if you just think you are? Is there any real measure of 'better', and if it is subjective, then how do you diagnosis disorders of distorted reality when reality itself is subjective? Oh, my head. See why I'm not going into psychology like dad?"

"Yeah, I guess reality is pretty subjective, but that's no surprise coming from someone who spent the last eight years in a hospital because they can't tell reality from fantasy ... or other reality as the case may well be. Maybe you should talk to Brian about that. But don't tell him I said anything. I have to project the illusion of sanity, or at least that I know what sanity is."

"Yeah. If I mention it I'll leave you out, though I don't think you have anything to worry about." She looked down at her watch. "Wow. We need to leave now unless we want to make a fashionably late entrance to Mass. That's kind of frowned upon. Father Fred will throw little pieces of Jesus at us."

"Eww. Okay."

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**Authors Note: Basic Story Info-future A.N.s will be at the end of the chapters. You don't have to read them, but that's where I'll credit things that I borrow, post links for further info, explain things you might not catch, etc. **

Summary: Squee is released from the D.H.M.I. and attends Hi Skool for the first time. Through in recent years his life has become more normal/stable, it starts to take a familiar turn for the weird/scary when his old teddy is returned to him. When it turns out that this problem is bigger than just his own, can he and friends solve it before it's too late?

This is a Squee! and Invader Zim Cross-over with emphasis on Squee. It is set more in the Invader Zim world because I know a lot more about it than the JTHM world. Will include scifi, humor, romance, some horror and mystical/religious elements (though they are mostly from a scifi pov). Future pairing include: Pepito/Squee, mild ZaDr, very mild Gaz/Squee, some one-sided Damned Elize/Nny, Juan/Rosemary (Pepi's parents), mentions of past Nny/Devi and possible actual Nny/Devi in part two. A few other side pairings: mentions of past Dib/OC, Hanzhi/Meph (two minor characters from Gaz's class in IZ), minor Gretchen/OC, one-sided Gretchen/Dib, Letta/Jordan (both female OCs) in part two, slight Tess/Edgar, minor Pepito/Zita.

There are a few OCs, but they're needed for story/character development, and they aren't really main characters. After chapter three, there will be less of them and more JV ones.

Rating: M, in the future for violence and sexual implications. There will be sexual jokes, discussions, implications, etc and some make-out scenes, but I'm not planning any actual sex scenes. If for some reason any turn up, they will only be posted on adultfanfiction and not here (but a heads up about them will be in the Ans).

Disclaimer: Squee, JTHM, I Feel Sick and Invader Zim characters belong to Jhonen Vasquez. I don't own them, and I make no money from the writing of this story.

"My Face" is kind of a furture hybrid of My Space and Face book in the SubAwake universe. It's inspired by Stephen Colbert always mixing the two together when he refers to them on his show.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sublime Awakenings Chapter Two: The Book of Numbers**

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**Warnings: Somewhat fanatical Church officials

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Standing in front of the teacher's desk in the Sunday skool classroom, Todd could feel the dull and unfocused eyes of Father Fred staring at him in an attempt at righteous indignation.

Fred had heard somewhere that righteous indignation was the voice of God, but the closest he had ever been able to come was self-righteous contempt. Deacon Jasper appeared to him to have one-upped him in this department as his eyes were rather focused on the pale boy before them. They were also narrowed in an attempt to shoot deadly rays of Hell fire into the boys soul, since the deadly rays of stupid he usually sent from the pulpit whenever he spoke didn't seem to be doing their job on this one.

"Stop it. That tickles." Todd gave a nervous, but slightly amused smile. He hadn't actually meant to say that out loud, but really, did Jasper expect him to be intimidated? Not after all he'd been through.

Father Fred ignored the comment. "So, Todd. Would you like to tell us why you were practicing numerology in the house of God in the middle of Mass?"

Todd rolled his eyes. "I wasn't."

Jasper took a step toward him and held up the notebook that he had accidentally knocked from Todd's hands as the congregation stood for communion. "Then what is this?! It looks like numerology to me!" he proclaimed, pointing dramatically to the front page. "Do not add lying to the list of your sins in the house of God, boy!"

Todd's own eyes narrowed slightly at this flamboyant display of ignorance. Stupidity should really be painful. "That's Pascal's Triangle. It's a type of mathematics used to determine the probability that any given event will occur. It's an extra credit assignment for my math class." Jasper had obviously never so much as opened a book on numerology ... or hi skool geometry.

"This 'pass-cow's triangle' looks and sounds pretty occult to me. How are we supposed to know that this isn't some type of numerology or something? Huh? Huh? Huh?!" Jasper refused to relent.

Todd looked around the room to see about five church officials looking at him expectantly. Letta was also there, waiting for him by the door. Brian had apparently already headed out to the car, possibly out of embarrassment.

Letta was about to step forward and vouch for him, even through she probably wasn't supposed to be listening in on his inquisition ... er reprimand, but before she could do this, Todd took it upon himself to make use of the dry-erase board behind the desk. She cringed, knowing this probably wouldn't end well, no matter how well he might be equipt to prove his point.

"This", he said with a strangely heated patience as he began writing progressively longer rows of numbers, starting with a single number one in the first row, "is Pascal's Triangle. The first line is line zero and is always one. To get all the other rows of numbers, you add the numbers beside each other to get the number that goes below it. For all numbers on the outside and the first one, the missing side numbers are assumed to be zero."

"And this," he proceeded to draw a line with the numbers one through nine above it and then the alphabet in sequence below the numbers, "is numerology. Well, at lest one type of numerology." He really only remembered one kind from a conversation with his paranormalist friend, Dib. "The numbers assigned to the letters of a name of a person or thing are added together, and if the resulting number is bigger than 9, then the digits that make it up are added together as well to get a smaller number. Each number is assigned a meaning that is used for divination."

After his explanation, he turned back to his audience, which instead of looking relieved or enlightened, looked angry and even more offended than before.

Not only had the kid made them look foolish with his retched "math prob", he had proven that he knew how numerology worked, which while probably the only means of truly proving that there was in fact a difference between number pyramids and numerology, was completely abominable. Jasper once again pointed dramatically, this time directly at Todd himself. "Witchcraft!"

"Son, do you know what the good book says about witchcraft?" asked Father Fred. His voiced dropped lower and became more serious."It says 'thou shalt not suffer a witch to live."

Okay, now maybe Todd was more that a little nervous. He began to take small, slow, unconscious steps back toward the exit. This seemed disturbingly familiar for some reason. Come on Todd, think! Where had he seen this before? A room full of mindless idiots closing in on him with the goal of his imminent demise because of some old mistranslation in a book deemed to be infallible? Oh yeah. "Ummm...it's a typo?" he offered meekly, "It ... ummm ... it's supposed to say 'poisoner' instead of 'witch'."

"A _typo_! In the King James Bible? You have offended meee, The Church, and God with your _blashempy_!" Nope, still only self-righteous contempt, but maybe if he made a pretense at righteous indignation, the Lord would finally lend his faithful servant Fred His voice so that he could finally hemp an Almighty load of Retribution on that horrible Father Ted for stealing what should have been _his_ chance at fame and fortune in the form of position on an aired mass. A sadistic smile stretched across his plump, round face. He would pay. Oh, how he would pay! He was a disgrace to the Priesthood, with his drunken old fool of an elder Priest, his hideous, useless spinster of a maid, and that incompetent Father Dougal, who was perhaps the most blasphemous being to have cursed the Catholic Church with his presence since Henry the Eighth. Why, he was even worse than this Todd kid! Wait! "Where did he go!"

As Father Fred's face took on a dazed, far-away look that smacked of sadistic revelry, Todd had taken the opportunity to turn and flee the unpleasantly familiar scene. He had turned and walked swiftly for the door, desperately grasping Letta's hand and tugging her roughly behind him on his way out. In the hallway, they broke into an open run when they looked back to see Deacon Jasper in hot pursuit.

Jasper gave a low, feral growl as his prey attempted to escape his wrath. Reaching into his suit, he pulled out a water gun filled with his own special holy water coattail. The secret was the added bleach. After this little fiasco, he was thinking about stepping it up a notch to something more volatile ... maybe hydrochloric acid.

As she and Todd were rounding the top of the stairs that lead out of the basement of Saint Barmy's Catholic Church, Letta felt a wetness permeate the back of her head. She couldn't stop and turn around to find the source of said wetness as Todd was still pulling her quickly forwards, but she did manage a swift glance back as he took a few seconds to shove a mop bucket down the stairs, spilling dirty water behind them. Jasper had apparently shot her with a water gun, but dear God, why did it burn! Before she could demand answers they were off again at break-neck speed. From the first floor she heard Deacon Jasper release a cry of surprise and fury, followed by a crash and some clattering that she assumed was the water-gun wielding nut job falling to his dirty, mop-watery doom.

Her dad was _so_ not going to be pleased.

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Notes:

This chapter, and story, is not meant to offend Catholics or Christians in general. It is, however, going to be antidogmatism and protolerance as far as religion, sexuality and lots of other things go. If many of the insanely dogmatic and stupid people tend to be Christian, it is only because Christianity is the dominant religion, and therefore more people are Christian. Also, dominant religions tend to be highly dogmatic. The only reason I picked Catholicism is because it is one of my favorite forms of Christianity, and I get to have a little Father Ted crossover. Information about Father Ted can be found at Wikipedia and many of the episodes are on youtube. Also, Fred and Jasper are not so bright because they're IZ type characters ... you probably know how most of those people are if you're reading this.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sublime Awakenings Chapter Three: The Nightmare Returns**

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**Warning: umm...nightmarish organics, soul trauma, mentions of sexual practices

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The drive home was unusually quiet. Todd pretended to be interested in the passing houses to avoid meeting Brian's gaze. He was feeling a host of negative emotions pooling in the pit of his stomach, weighing it down. He was embarrassed for himself, guilty for embarrassing Brian, angry that the Church allowed the situation to carry on as it did, and worst of all, afraid that his behavior might warrant reconsideration of his release from the Defective Head Meat Institution. He knew that his "parents" would be more than willing to get rid of him for two more years, until he was no longer their responsibility at all, if given the option. He had just humiliated, and probably disappointed, the one person who stood in between his relative freedom and horrible confinement. And then there was Johnny. He didn't even want to think about what gruesome fate would befall Brian if he made the call to send him back there.

Of course, Brain wouldn't be as petty as to do such a thing out of anger. He was much too good a counselor and person for that, and he was quite fond of Todd. No, the real danger actually lay in his affection for him. He had most likely interpreted Todd's odd behavior as a psychotic episode, signaling that he was unable to cope with the social pressures of the real world.

Bringing his sleek gray car came to an abrupt stop in front of the Casil house, Brian sighed. "Todd, I'm not mad at you. I'm sure that was a very stressful situation for you. Even though you shouldn't have been doing math during Mass, I shouldn't have let them interrogate you. I'm sorry. I didn't expect that they would take it quite so ... seriously, or that you would react so seriously to them."

Todd finally looked away from the window, turning toward the silhouette of his counselor. "It's okay. I'm sorry too." He really didn't know what else to say. How could he defend what he had done? It wasn't really a matter of fault, but more a matter of sanity.

"Do you ... want to talk about why you thought they were zombies?"

Todd looked down at his hands, which were clasped together tightly in his lap at the moment. "It reminded me of one of the incidents from my childhood. You remember the one that I told you about, when the skool turned the kids into zombies and they all tried to kill me because I wouldn't agree about Columbus?" Yeah, that sounded like a good defense for his sanity.

"Umm, yeah. And your little friend, Pepito, the, umm, Antichrist, saved you by blowing the other kids up?" Brian said this slowly, trying to suppress underlying worry.

"Yeah ... that. Listen, I'm not saying that it really happened. I'm just saying that whether it was a dream, or some sort of distorted memory or whatever, it came back to me tonight because the situation seemed very similar to me. It wasn't like I was hallucinating or anything. I just let the old fear get away from me."

"You're sure? You didn't see anything strange? Did you have flash-backs?"

"No. It was like remembering a bad dream. A really bad dream. I didn't really see it imposed on my surroundings. I just overreacted." That was more or less the truth. Okay, defiantly less, but he really didn't want to be locked up again.

"Okay. I believe you, Todd, but this is very important. I need you to tell me if you do start seeing things like you used to, okay? We may need to adjust your medication."

"Alright. I'll let you know if anything overly weird happens." He forced a small smile.

"Good." Sensing his nervousness, Brain reached over to ruffle the Todd's hair. Todd let out a deep breath, and the tension that seemed to be lingering in the air dissipated. "Have a good night, Todd. Call me if you need anything."

"I will. Night, Brian." Todd's door opened as he stood. He heard it automatically close behind him as he began the short walk up his driveway.

"Todd! Hold up."

When he turned around to see the passenger window rolled down and the inside light on, he walked swiftly back to the vehicle.

"I forgot to give you this." Brian hoisted up a cardboard box from the back seat and stuffed it half way out the window for the taking.

"What is it?" Todd asked as he took the light weight box with both hands.

"Just some of your old stuff from over the years at the D.H.M.I. We aren't allowed to throw anything away without your permission, so it all kind of accumulates. I just thought that you might want to keep some of it. When you get a chance, go through it and if there is anything left over that is still in decent condition that you don't want, bring it Sunday. I'll donate it to charity with some of my stuff."

"Okay. Thanks, Brian. See ya Sunday." He gave another small smile before heading to his house, but this time it was real. Things were back to normal already.

Tucking the box under one arm, he used the other to retrieve the house key that he had stolen from his mother earlier that week from his dress pants. He entered the house as quietly as possible, noting the dark interior. The bluish glow of the TV was the only illumination as he crept through the living room, where his father appeared to be passed out in a mildly tattered tan recliner. As his right foot fell softly upon the first step of the staircase it emitted a slow, but determined creek that prompted his father to stir.

"Huh? Hey! Dependent! What are you doing back already? I thought I was free of you for the night! Why can't you ever just leave me alone?" he yelled from the recliner.

"You mean like for the last eight years," Todd muttered to himself in low exasperation.

"What did you say to me, brat?"

"I said," he raised his voice and added a sarcastic layer of frosted sugarie sweetness, "goodnight, Daddy." Nothing bugged his 'dear old dad' like having the fact 'lovingly' rubbed in his face. With that, Todd hurried up the stairs and into his room before any more arguing could ensue.

Once inside the small refuge of his childhood, he leaned against the door and surveyed the changes. Upon his release, he had begrudgingly returned to find that what had once been his room had been converted into a dusty storage closet. Of course, none of _his_ things had been stored there. Everything that hadn't been taken to the D.H.M.I. had been discarded like the dead bodies of plague victims, only in faster order. The only reminisce of his old room had been the smiley-face wall paper, which he had promptly painted over.

Brian had bought him new furniture, for which Todd intended to pay him back, and Letta had helped him redecorate. The wall was now a dark green. The furnishings were simple, consisting of a bed, a desk, a book self, a dresser and a night stand, all made of stained pine. It wasn't terribly expensive or incredibly nice, but it was still the best Todd had ever had. Even though the majority of his reading had been of material burrowed from libraries and friends, the books that Brian had allowed him to keep in his office, along with his notebooks of stories and a few journals, already took up the lower half of the large bookshelf. He smiled to himself, knowing that he would have free access to literature and other sources of knowledge now that he was out.

BRINGGG.......BRIINNGGGG!!  
BRINGGG.......BRIINNGGGG!!

Todd was startled at the shrill sound before remembering the cell phone he had acquired at the Mall and digging it out of his pocket to bring it to his ear. Only two people had the number so far, and he didn't think that his new boss would be calling this late. "Letta?"

"Hey, Squee. You okay? Dad wasn't too hard on you, was he?" she asked in her nicest big-sister type voice.

"Oh, no. He was cool. I'm fine. Everything is fine,"

"I'm glade. You really had me worried there."

"Yeah. I'm,uh, really sorry about that."

"Don't sweat it. That was actually the most fun I've had at Church since Sheri and I went down on each other in the confessional booth a few years ago," she confided with a small laugh.

"Wow, er ... thanks, I think," he bashfully crocked.

"Squeegee, are you blushing?"

"No. Of course not. Why would I be doing something like that?" he lied.

"Oh, I dunno. Maybe cause you do it every time I mention sex?" The smirk in her voice could be heard over the phone.

"Yes, well, I've been very sheltered," he defended rather poorly.

"I guess a maximum security mental hospital will do that to ya, huh? But I have tried my best to counteract that, haven't I?"

"Heh. Yeah. Thanks for that. Really."

"You're welcome, kid. Now! Enough with the sentimentality. I called for a reason. You forgot your new gothy cloths in my car."

"Ouch. And here I thought you called cause you cared." He made his voice an obvious imitation of emotional distress.

"Of course I care about you, Todd. You're the only person I've ever meet with just the right amount of crazy to be the little brother I never had," she said truthfully.

"Thanks, Letta. No one offends me and flatters me at the same time quite like you."

"It's a gift. So, I was thinking that I would stop by your house tomorrow before you left for skool. I could bring the stuff you left and give you a lift on my way to work."

"Okay. That sounds good. Thanks a lot."

"No problem. I'm headed that way anyway. Teena gave me the morning shift again at the coffee shop. I'm really starting to regret taking all my classes in the afternoon this year. Speaking of which, I really need to do some last minute homework and head to bed. You should probably get some sleep too."

"Yeah, I guess so. Have a good night."

"You too. See ya bright and early."

After hanging up, Todd set his cell phone's alarm to go off at six-thirty and placed it on his night stand. He deposited the box and his dress cloths in his closet, then changed into pajamas. He realized that for the first time in eight years, he could probably sleep in his boxers or even nude without having to worry about other people barging into his room at designated periods and wee hours. Then again, Johnny could always decide to resume his old habit of paying him late night visits full of spooky bedtime stories. Even if by chance, Nny realized that the teen was just a bit too old for bedtime stories, there was always the possibility of those aliens returning.

He shuttered. He wasn't supposed to believe that those incidents were real, but the memories were so vivid! Also, his friend, Dib, had been lending credence to them for years with his own stories. Then he had returned to skool, only to have the horribly disguised truth staring him in the face and announcing loudly that his name was Zim. Yes, there was definitely more to those old memories, and maybe some of the stranger ones as well, more than humanity in general wanted to admit. Maybe that's why they had a tendency to hide people like Dib and himself away where no one would have to listen to them ... like at the mental institution where the two had met.

After this thought, Todd closed the closet door securely and climbed into his already unmade bed. Actually, "unmade" wasn't really the best description as the bed was in perfectly neat order. It just so happened that said other consisted of the covers being folded neatly down to the foot of the bed. After all, making up the bed would only serve to trap heat and moisture, providing a breeding ground for dust mites. Todd liked to keep the little buggers just that, _little_, and to a minimum.

Just as he felt himself drift into a peaceful rest in his comfy nonprison-like, non-mental health center issued bed, a slow creaking sound startled him, driving away his tranquil state. He forced his eyes open and glanced at the door to his room, expecting a drug-induced, accidental visit from his mother. Nothing. The door was securely closed. There was a rustling between the closet and the foot of his bed. He quickly sat up and turned his frightened gaze in that direction, but once again nothing seemed out of place.

Maybe he really was crazy. Maybe he never should have stopped taking the sleeping pills the D.H.M.I. had prescribed. Even so, this really shouldn't be happening. He was still taking the antipsychotics.

Okay, Todd, he thought to himself, just go back to sleep. It's just your nerves acting up. You can handle this. As long as you don't give in to the panic, you're okay. As long as you know your hallucinations aren't real, you aren't delusional.

Todd lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes. He continued his increasingly comforting internal monologue, which was transforming into a mantra of "It's not real" and "Everything is okay".

He felt his mind and body becoming more relaxed, but as he deemed it safe to drop the mantra, he felt something on his chest, near his heart. It was deadly cold and seemed to clutch at his very being with vaguely hand shaped sinews of polarized pressure. He felt wide awake again, the fear overwhelming his previous rationalizations. His eyes shot wide open. He couldn't see whatever was on his chest, but could still felt it there. At this point he wasn't sure that he wanted to see the cause of his distress. While his inability to see his tormentor was maddening and terrifying, seeing it might make it even more so.

The "hand" tightened its grip on him, and the tindens sunk deeper into his ... his what? He felt like someone had just injected a shot of fear on the rocks into his very soul. An icy, consuming dread crept through him, and his world became distorted. As the cold invaded his being, a preternatural darkness spread over his room. It started at the ceiling, slowly climbing down the walls and onto the floor. By the street light still shinning through his bedroom window, Todd gasped in horror as he recognized the darkness as dark red blood. When the blood reached the floor, it kept going without even waiting to pool first where the walls meet the floor as gravity should have demanded. The light from the window was now tented red as the blood covered the pane. As the blood reached the bed, it began a methodical ascent up the legs.

Todd could feel himself starting to hyperventilate. It was almost as if the blood had a consciousness, and it was closing in on him. He wanted to run, but there was no way out now. On the walls and the floor, the blood still lingered, but it was now a light coating covering something else. Something even more wrong. Beneath the blood was visible tissue. Muscle and fibers covered strange bulges. Bits of wall were visible in places, an unmistakable bone white covered in a thin sheet of red where once there had been dark green.

He was torn from his fascinated horror at this newest revelation when the blood, which was now on the bed soaking his sheets, did finally pool just to lunge for his midsection. A scream died in his throat as the invisible terror was now coated in blood as well and holding a remarkable resemblance to the the rest of his monstrous room. He was frozen with fear as the blood ran down the thing's pointy appendages to his own body. His gut clenched as the fluid entered and covered his him. He could feel in taking him over, congealing on the outside to form strong veins, wrapping him in a sick and possessive embrace, but could do nothing to stop it. He shuddered involuntarily as new tissue started to grow between the sinister binds, over his blood drenched flesh.

As the substance traveled through Todd's system, he neared the breaking point. He could hear his heart beat loudly in his ears, and realized that the tissue clinging to his body was pulsing in sync with its rhythm. Suddenly, he could feel the entire house pulsating as well. It was alive! The monster was _alive_, and he was its heart. As his being was engrossed with the strange blood, he could feel the monster growing, spreading through the street and then the city. As it grew, it claimed all in its wake. He could hear the wailing voices of its living victims, feel the thing feeding on them, consuming them more thoroughly than it had consumed him, but he couldn't stop it. As the monster feasted on the blood of the victims, their blood mixed with its own.

Todd felt the blood of the tortured dead circulating through him, and as it did he heard the wailing again. It was louder this time and closer. It was in the blood itself. It filled him, but was not filtered back out with the blood. It was too much, too intense. He had to get it out. He couldn't move, couldn't rip away from the thing that claimed him, the thing that was him. There was only one thing left to do. He opened his mouth and let out a chorus of wails, setting them free as they filled him, though they would never stop pouring in. The eerie resonance of hundreds of pained cries simultaneously filled the room.

Todd shot bolt right up in bed, reflectively stifling a panicked cry with his hand, something he had conditioned himself to do at the D.H.M.I. to avoid being drugged and restrained. He took several deep breaths and gave a sigh of relief, realizing that it had all been a dream. As he looked around his blood-free room to regain a sense of semi-normality, however, he noticed that the closet door was now open.

The box Brian had given him was now open on its side just outside of the closet. Old, outgrown clothes, a few books and other miscellaneous objects from said box were strewn across the floor in a loose trail leading right to his bed. He swallowed a knot in his throat before looking down to the bed. What he saw then elicited a scream that he couldn't muffle in time.

Sitting in his lap was an old, brown teddy bear with several bad stitch jobs and rectangular, hollow white eyes that seemed to stare searingly into his own. Those eyes were lined with a dark purple that would have looked like a bruise on a human. On the bear it looked more like an unnatural luminance that seeped out from the white, betraying the lie that nothing was there on the inside to watch and to wait.

* * *

Notes:

I promise there will be Invader Zim characters in the next chapter! The OCs will play a much smaller role after this chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sublime Awakenings Chapter Four: Bitter Suspicions**

**

* * *

**Warnings: cursing and mentions of very mild self-harm

* * *

As he attempted to walk steadily across the hi skool lawn to the glass double doors, forcing lingering tension from last night into the back of his mind, Todd could feel the cool breeze acutely on his skin. He griped his bagged lunch tighter, and felt relived that his skin had faded from a lobster red to only being few tones brighter than his usual medium peach. He had been unable to sleep for the remainder of the night and had lay there in bed, staring fearfully at his childhood bear.

When he heard the front door slam, signaling that his father had left for work, he had made straight for the shower. With the heat turned up all the way, he had tried in vain to scrub away the tainted feeling that the nightmare had left him with. He had only stopped when the shower had run out of hot water, after an hour or so. Sure, it had burned, but it had been worth it to feel just a little cleaner and to replace the memory of the monster holding him and invading his being, if only for a short while.

After making his way through crowded halls full of chatter, flirting, bullying, and the inevitable rows of teens seated against the walls trying desperately to copy last night's homework before the bell rang, Todd entered his homeroom: Honors English. He took his assigned seat, which was directly in the middle row, two seats from the front. Miss Bitters glared at him from behind her large and imposing desk at the front of the room as if daring him to question her impending lecture of doom. Todd quickly opened his notebook and stared down at it, trying hard not to glare back with defiance. He did not need a repeat of the church incident or a reassignment to the underground classroom.

As he went about writing down his most recent nightmare for potential use in one of his many stories, he was shocked by the loud ringing of the skool bell and the tidal wave of his classmates entering at the last possible moment. He couldn't really blame them for wanting to spend as less time with Bitters as possible. As the teens scrambled into their respective seats, Bitters rose from her desk.

"Alright, you pubescent, social leeches, pass your papers on 'The Jilting of Granny Weatherall' to the front _now_, because after this moment, I will not except another paper."

There was a collective rustling of papers being passed up to the front desk of each row, except for the last row, which was missing the usual big-headed occupant of its front desk. Zim smirked from the opposite side of the classroom as he carefully snatched the papers from the girl behind him with a gloved hand. The feeble Dib-thing was already late for Skool this early in the year, and when their first English assignment was due as well. The pit-if-ful huymun wormbaby really needed to learn to balance his mission with his other responsibilities. Of course, not everyone could be as completely amazing as the Almighty Zim ... especially when their mission consisted mostly in trying to stop the Almighty Zim from conquering their planet.

Just as he saw Miss Bitters finish collecting all the papers and retreat behind her desk through the small rectangular window on the classroom door, Dib pushed it open very, very slowly. In fact, he opened it so slowly that it didn't make a sound, thereby not drawing the wrath of the inhuman teacher. As most of his classmates focused their attention on the black board while Bitters scrawled on it in a screechy manner, Dib slipped in unnoticed. He slowly crept toward the teacher's desk, paper in hand, in hopes of improving his grade to something besides a zero.

Zim gave a merrily evil grin. "Hi, Dib! Nice of you to join us!"

Dib's movement came to an abrupt halt at the sound of Zim's shrilly elated greeting. He froze with his paper slipped halfway into the pile. The tension mounted as Miss Bitters rotated at a perfect one hundred and eighty degree angle - he was still trying to figure out which paranormal category she belonged to - to face the apparent lollygagger.

"Dib! You're late! Explain yourself!"

"Sorry, Miss Bitters, I got in an argument on the way to skool." There was a collective grasp at the semi-normal excuse followed by an awkward silence. He smirked when he noticed that a few of the students who knew him from previous years looked almost scared. Still, feeling all eyes upon himself, and hating awkward silences, Dib took it upon himself to elaborate on his excuse. "I was walking down the street when this man hammering on his roof called me a paranoid little freak ... in Morse code. I mean, come on! He could have at least had the decency to say it to my face. Or in words!"

The silence died and quickly moved into the Great Beyond as the class was suddenly filled with laughter and snide comments about the lack of sanity in Dib's 'abnormally large' head. Dib sighed. Situation normal: all fucked up, as usual.

Bitters took a moment to watch Dib go from rant mode to dejected, scornful mode. It was always nice to watch his spirits be crushed. Even so, it brought the other students too much mirth, and she wasn't prepared to allow that for long. "Quiet!" A pure and blessed silence did the opposite of ring out through the room. "Dib! Your excuse is pathetic, just like your doomed existence! Now, take a set, you paranoid little freak!"

"Yes, ma'am," Dib said in a forced melancholy tone. As he sat, he shot a glare toward the alien to his far right. The alien glared back with that ever present smirk, because like everything else, this was another small "victory for ZIM!". Dib turned to gaze out the window, and hide a secret smile. His "pathetic excuse" had actually distracted Miss Bitters from noticing him drop his paper into the middle of the pile. If he was really lucky she would forget about his tardiness and grade it. Let Zim have his hollow little victory if it made him so damn happy. The last five years had been full of small victories for Zim, but no large ones.

His mini celebration was interrupted when the back of his perfectly normal sized head was smacked with a paper ball, which then fell to his desk. He didn't even have to look up to know who it was from. He lowered the paper ball to his lap, where it was hidden by his desk, and unballed it.

_Dib-stink,_

_The window is reflective. Why are you so happy?_

_P.S. The man on the roof was right._

There was a light thud as Dib's head hit his desk. Stupid, shinny, clean windows. That was one of the unique experiences of hi skool: everything was clean and so cheerily bright it was almost sickening. Actually, that wasn't so much a property of hi skool as it was a result of Mr. Eliot being promoted to principal of said hi skool. At least Zim seemed to be the only one to notice his reflection. He turned the paper over and wrote a message before hurling it back across the room. He snickered to himself, knowing the reaction it would cause.

_Space-GIRL,  
__  
I'm always happy when pretty girls greet me so enthusiastically._

_P.S. How many guys have asked you out so far this year?_

Miss Bitters's voice could be heard throughout the classroom, thought she knew that to many students it had already become background noise. "Now turn to page two hundred and twenty five. Look at the poem 'Nothing Gold Can Stay' by Robert Frost. Can anyone tell me what this poem is about?" she droned. Her eyes spanned the class, ignoring raised hands, especially Todd's. She was looking for victims.

Zim's lavender contact covered eyes narrowed at the filthy words the Dib had written. How dare the beast remind him of such disgusting things! He had finally broken down and taken to wearing mostly human clothes in public after the tenth male pig-smelly had attempted to court him in the year of the fresh-man, under the mistaken impression that he was female. His outfits were still similar to his Invader uniform, consisting mostly of black and red, but less of what those filthy humans considered to be ... "feminine".

Of course, it was degrading to someone as amazing as Zim to wear such inferior clothes. Even so, it was worth it as his second objective in his social interactions with humans, remaining relatively free of their filthy germs, was better fulfilled. Human males were now much less likely to "ask him out" or "in" as the situation had sometimes been ... besides that horrible Keef. At first he had worried that after the wardrobe change the females would pick up where the males left off, but their reaction had, luckily, been pretty minimal. He had retained his Empire-issued gloves and boots, of course.

"Zim!"

Zim was in the middle of scrawling down a witty and superior comeback when Miss Bitters called his name, but immediately he sprung to full alert. "Sir!"

"'Nothing Gold Can Stay'; what's it about?"

"Err ... pirate monkeys?" He gave her a big affirming smile as the pig-smellies around him giggled.

"Wrong answer! Perhaps you would better understand the poem, and therefore that all is _doom_, if you actually opened your book to look at it!"

"Yes, Miss Bitters!"

Her head slowly turned to the other side of the room, where a slightly panicked Dib was hurriedly flipping through his book to find the poem. Too late. She smiled. "Dib! Would you care to explain the poem to the class?"

"Uh, sure. The poem is about, uh, doom?" he muttered unsurely.

"While correct, that answer is incredibly, and I suspect purposefully, vague. Maybe if you peeled your eyes away from your freakish, little girlfriend long enough to read the assignment you would have a less pathetic answer!"

Girlfriend? What was she ... oh, God, surely she didn't mean Zim! Beneath the teacher's sadistic leer, Dib slouched in his desk in an attempt to sink right through it, or at least be less noticeable. The heat he felt in his face told him that his pale skin was probably a bright pink by now. If he just kept quiet maybe no one would know who she was talking about.

Zim, unlike the pitiful, reddening Dib-worm, was having none of it. He quickly rose to his feet in his chair and raised his voice in order to attract as much attention as possible. "You dare call _Zim_, the perfectly normal, perfectly _male_, huymun wormbaby, a girl!"

Zim, of course, being Irken, was not terribly offended at being called female. Male and female Irkens were perfectly equal within the Empire, even though females were somewhat rare. Still, if he wanted to blend in with the Earth scum, he knew he would have to act as any normal human male would at such an accusation. Plus, he really didn't want any more human teenagers confused about his gender ... it only lead to situations that made him want to make little sicky noises.

"Furthermore, I am _not_"going out" with the Dib! He was simply observing my greatness, as should you all!"

If it was possible, Dib thought he was now turning an even darker red. He pulled the collar of his trench coat put to partly hide his face. He could always count on Zim to make a bad situation worse, even by accident. Behind him he heard whispered speculation about his "observing Zim's greatness" as well as a few dirty jokes.

Miss Bitters was quite pleased with her through embarrassment of the two boys, but alas, she was wasting valuable class time that could better be spent making sure all those little Earth-monsters knew how utterly pointless, and without hope, their existence was. Back to the lecture. "_Silence_! Zita. Read the poem out loud to the class, please."

Zita stifled her giggling, coughed twice and took a deep breath. It was just too funny to watch the two most insane people she knew carry on with such obvious denial.

"Ahem.  
Nature's first green is gold,  
Her hardest hue to hold.  
Her early leaf's a flower;  
But only so an hour.  
Then leaf subsides to leaf.  
So Eden sank to grief,  
So dawn goes down to day.  
Nothing gold can stay. "

"Very good, Zita. Now, can you tell me what it's about?"

"Uh, I think it's about how things start out really good, but none of the good things in life last. Like, the early green is gold means that the beginning of life is good, but then you get old and die. The last line really says it all. Nothing gold can stay."

"Excellent. You get an A plus. You see, children, the lesson here is that life is a black, sucking vortex of anguish and despair, filled with brief moments of false hope and empty joy, all the while dragging you inevitably closer to final, absolute and eternal death."

Todd's left eye began to twitch sporadically at the horribly oversimplified and, oh hell, just plain wrong interpretation they had just been spoon feed. His hand shot back into the air before he could stop it.

"What is it now, Todd?" Bitters asked mechanically.

"That was a terrible interpretation of the poem! I mean, first of all, in New England, where Frost was from, the first leaves of the birch and the willow really _were_ gold. The gold was fleeting because the leaves needed to mature and become green. In the poem, gold becomes green and what appears to be a flower reveals itself to really be a leaf. There is some implied sentimental loss when this happens, but the thing which becomes its true self undergoes only a seeming fall. The subsiding is a fall, which is a rise into a new value. It is with this movement of paradox that Frost arrives at the final term of his argument, developing a parallel between acts within nature and acts within myth.

'So Eden sank to grief' in the same way that gold turned to green and flower subsided to leaf. By analogy, the third term in the poem takes on the character of the first two; gold is green; flower is leaf; Eden is grief. In every case the second element is really a value, a part of the natural process by which the cycle of fuller life is completed. The change is actually meant to be interpreted as a shift to good. The most telling line in the poem is 'So dawn goes down to day'. Obviously, dawn doesn't 'go down' but come up. It's basically the story of the blessed fall."

The entire class stared, stupefied. Todd knew he was well on his way to once again becoming an outcast, but it really didn't bother him. Just because it was in style with his generation to embrace apathy and scorn anything that required rejecting it, like knowledge, didn't mean he was going to join them. Even if life wasn't so great, he could still enjoy some things. He could still feel and think. Even if they were all in the gutter, some of them, and he liked to think himself included, were still looking up at the stars.

Miss Bitters was very disgruntled at Todd's lack of faith in her interpretation of doom. Didn't he know that everything, or at least everything worth knowing as far as humanity was concerned, was about doom? How dare he think out of term like that! If it wasn't now her priority assignment to watch the little brat, she would send him straight to the underground classroom! That would drive him mad, and he would end up back in the mental hospital, where he surely belonged. That, however, would be pointless. She would probably be transferred there to make sure things went as planned. Even if she wasn't, she would have shown weakness in her lack of patience, and therefore ability, to complete a very important mission. She would just have to suck it up, for now.

"Todd, you will keep your unorthodox opinions to yourself, unless you would like a reassignment to another classroom ... one ... not so close to the ground. They have no place in the public education system. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Miss Bitters," he said dully. What was said was said, after all, and her reaction hadn't been as bad as expected. He really did need to gain more self-control though. The home-skool style correspondence program that he had previously been enrolled in at the DHMI had allowed a lot more freedom of thought, and it appeared that he had gotten a little spoiled without realizing it.

"Right. Class, in light of today's lesson, I am assigning you all term papers that will be due by the middle of the term. The topic will be about any subject that you choose, but you must relate it back to 'Nothing Gold Can Stay' and its message of impending doom."

As the rest of the class groaned, Zim snapped to attention, staring at Miss Bitters with suspicious apprehension. Had she just said "Impending Doom"? Did she know? Would she tell the Earth authorities? Was she on their side? Was she even human? He didn't think so. But what did this mean for the Earth and his "oh-so-glorious mission"?

"Since we have about twenty minutes of class time left, we are all going to the library so that you can start researching your topics. I expect you all to have at least chosen one by this time next week. We go now!"

Rising with the rest of the class, Dib followed their spooky teacher through the merry, yellow halls. It looked like someone had let Keef take charge of the interior decorating. Hanging with Squee near the back of the group, he shuddered at the memory of finding Keef in his newly redecorated room a few years back.

Zim purposefully let himself fall behind. He needed to find out what the Dib-thing knew about Miss Bitters. The Dib, however, seemed to be avoiding him. First, he had moved to the opposite side of the hall as Zim. Then, when Zim crossed over, he had practically stopped walking so that he was even farther from the group.

Zim smirked. Perhaps he had finally realized what a mighty and superior being Zim was, and was either in too much fear or awe to be directly in his presence. Psh. Who was he kidding? That wasn't like the Dib-beast at all, and he reluctantly admitted that a part of him was glad. Probably, he was just being a "whinny bitch", as human teenagers sometimes called him, again. That had been happening seemingly randomly for a few years now. Zim figured that it was part of human development, because it seemed to happen to most of their classmates as well. He had momentarily considered it as a weakness to be exploited, but decided against it as it was too unpredictable.

Looking ahead, away from the Dib, Zim noticed that they were now pretty far behind the rest of their class, which could be construed as 'skipping'. He really couldn't afford another detention right now. He needed to start his research on Bitters ASAP. Plus, it was never a good idea to leave his minions unsupervised for longer than he had to. Every time they seemed to find some kind of new and terrible mischief to get into. He would have to speak with the Dib later. That decided, he looked back to give the apparently emotionally unstable wormbaby a shrug, followed by a small smile. Maybe that would help him get over whatever petty issue he was upset over, so that by next period he would be willing to supply Zim with some needed answers.

"Dib, come on! We have to go to the library. You know how Miss Bitters is. We're gonna get detention in the first week of skool. She's already mad at us," Todd pleaded.

"I can't. He's waiting for me."

"So?"

"He's up to something. I can tell. Why is he looking at me like that? He looks contemplative. That can't be good," Dib said cautiously.

"Maybe he's wondering why you're standing in the middle of the hall instead of following Bitters? I mean, if your going to skip, at least do it properly."

Dib's eyes widened as Zim gave him a non-evil looking smile before turning to follow the rest of the class. "What ... was that?"

Maybe Zim was trying to lull him into a false sense of security? Nah, probably not. He hadn't really thought about it, mostly because he'd been trying not to, but he and Zim had been giving each other more strange little tokens of affection lately. That was somewhat unnerving. Traditionally, those little slip-ups had only taken place during their epic battles, meaning arguments, competitions and the struggle over the planet, as they rarely had one-on-one physical fights ... just little harmless skirmishes.

For his last birthday Zim had even gotten him a present that had yet to blow up: a three dimensional, holographic projector of the galaxy that included a control so that he could manipulate the data to have the effect of moving through space. It apparently contained accurate time, rotation, and even weather models of what Irkens knew about his galaxy, which was a lot. That was scary, but also amazing. He was still confused about Zim's motives for giving it to him. Of course, he had undoubtedly been subtly, for once, asserting Irken superiority, but the nature of the gift was very well suited to Dib and his interests. Maybe somewhere in his strange alien heart Zim actually felt sorry for him because he was stuck here.

Todd sighed in relief when Dib gave a small half smile before resuming his walk to the library.

* * *

Notes:

-Since this is my first fanfiction, I am really excited about getting to break some of the rules of regular fiction. I really like quotes, so I've decided to attribute some to various characters in the fic. I will be citing these as best as I can.

1 Dib's elaboration of why he was late is a quote by Emo Phillips.  
2 Miss Bitters's elaboration of Zita's interpretation of the poem is a paraphrase of a quote I stumbled upon, but it wasn't attributed to anyone.  
3 Squee's interpretation of the poem is a paraphrase of Alfred R. Ferguson's interpretation. It can be found here: http : //www . English . Illinois . edu/maps/poets/a_f/frost/gold . htm  
4 Squee's thought about being in the gutter, but looking up at the stars is a paraphrase of a quote from Lady Windermere's Fan by Oscar Wilde.

-Further Warning: Don't try the water thing. Depending on how hot your water gets, it can cause serious injury.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sublime Awakenings Chapter Five: Violent Confrontations**

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Warning: Cursing, violence, Keef

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Behind the library checkout desk, Gretchen's head snapped up as her attention was drawn to the double doors that had just been violently slammed open. She quickly cast her gaze back to the books she had been transferring from the drop bin to the dolly at the sight of Ms. Bitters. Luckily, she managed to slip under the radar. Well, actually that probably wasn't luck. It was never hard for her to go unnoticed. While somewhat depressing, this did have its advantages. After her past, eerily unaged teacher walked by, she risked raising her head once again to observe those unfortunate enough to have her for Honors English, which she knew included a certain big-headed paranormalist.

As he entered the library, Dib was pulled from his contemplation of the growing ... weirdness ... that was his relationship with Zim by a passingly familiar voice.

"Dib! Hey, how's it goin'?"

Seeking its embodiment he came face to face with a rather plain looking girl with light brown eyes and lilac hair, worn in three long braids that fit tightly to her scalp, the two side braids hitting the back of her neck slightly lower than the middle one. He vaguely remembered her having much needed braces in elementary skool, though her teeth were near perfect now, but not much else. What was her name? Gertrude? Gwendolin?

"Uh, hi. It's going pretty normally. Well, as normal as Ms. Bitters' class ever gets away. How about you?"

"Oh, uh, me? Well, my days been okay so far. Though it really is too early to tell. This morning I was reading the paper and your dad was on the front page again."

So ... bored ... already! Must ... end ... mundane ... small talk! Or even worse, an impending 'real science' talk, because now that he thought about it, he seemed to remember that this girl was a hug fan of his dad's."Yeah, that's great! Ya know, I just realized I haven't introduced you to my friend. This is Squee. He's new here. Maybe you could give him a tour of the library or something."

Gretchen's face fell for a few small seconds at being cut off, but, accustomed to such treatment, she recovered quickly. Besides, she could see Zim in the reflection of Dib's glasses, his amber orbs looking almost superimposed on the short, green figure from that angle, so she didn't take it personally. Dib had a tendency to ignore everyone else when focused on Zim. She had long ago given up any realistic hope of being anything other than a friend to the paranormal-obsessed boy. She was just too normal, at least by Dib-standards. "Hi ... Squee? I'm Gretchen. Did you just move here?"

"Wow! Look at the time! I really need to start my research. I'll just leave you two to get better acquainted." As Dib hurried away, he saw Squee give him a flat, unimpressed look for his abandonment. He wasn't sure if it was for being rude to Gretchen or leaving him with her.

"It's nice to meet you, Gretchen. I've lived in this city since I was seven, but this is my first time going to public hi skool." Hey, that was the truth! So what if he left out a few 'minor' details?

"Oh, so were you home skooled?"

Before he could supply her with more half-truth, Todd felt someone tap his shoulder from behind. He didn't even have time to take in the tapper because as soon as he turned to face them he was enclosed in a tight hug that nearly lifted him off his feet.

"Todd! Hey, Amigo! Why didn't you call me when you were released?"

"Pepito? ... need ... air," he coughed, "darkness ... closing in ... goodbye ... cruel ... world." To heighten the effect of his claim, Todd desperately clutched the back of Pepito's shirt so tightly that he was probably leaving claw marks on his back.

The hug instantly loosened, but Pepito's arms maintained a weak embrace. He gave an amused smile. "Heh. You always were such a drama queen."

As the hug slackened, Todd took a small step back and a large gulp of recycled air before looking, slightly up, at his captor: a teenage boy with dark brown eyes, spiky, jelled black hair and a natural olive tan that was a result of his father's Mexican ancestry. For just a moment he was shocked that Pepito didn't look quite as he remembered, but he managed to suppress the odd memories for the time being.

"Drama queen? Okay, so maybe oxygen deprivation does make me a little dramatic. Besides, I don't remember you being exactly stoic, what with all those passionate speeches about the desolation of our generation back in elementary skool."

"Hey, I was right about those kids, wasn't I? Surely you remember what happened only a week after that, admittedly dramatic, speech?"

This was it, the moment of truth. Pepito would know how much of his memories were real and how much were fantasy. Now that he was away from the prying eyes of the institute, all he had to do to find out was ask. Maybe this was the real reason he had yet to contact his long-distance best friend with the news of his official freedom. Did he really want to know? "Ummm ... I have some really strange memories from back then. This may sound crazy, but did our classmates really turn into some kind of zombies?"

Pepito's playful expression gave way to worry at the question. He had purposefully left out any potentially disturbing information in his many letters to Todd at the bequest of his mother, who warned that all his letters would be checked before reaching their intended destination. Of course, the doctors had probably tried to convince him that many facets of his life were illusionary. How confused was the poor boy? "Todd. We really need to talk."

"Yeah. I'm, uh, sorry I haven't called you or anything yet. It's just that I haven't been out a whole week yet, and I've been pretty busy."

"Pepito! I need your help over here!" Gretchen called from the check out desk, which now sported a line of students impatiently waiting their turn.

"Coming, Gretch! Sorry, Amigo, this is Gretchen's first time being an aid, and I have to help break her in. If I don't see you again today, call me, okay?"

At Todd's nod, Pepito gave him another quick hug, which was somewhat embarrassing when Todd realized that he had spent the whole conversation in a light embrace in front of his whole first period class and several other random students. Then he was off, and Todd decided to at least pretend to look for topic for his term paper.

As Pepito jumped over the counter to stand beside Gretchen, he became instantly annoyed by the obviously practiced valley accent of the most popular, and hated, girl in the junior class: Jessica.

Jessica flipped her hair, hitting the kid behind her in the face, and continued her reprimand in a her usual snotty tone. "Like, hurry up already! I don't have all day to waste with you losers, you know."

"I'm sorry, but it isn't letting me check any books out in your name," Gretchen said apologetically.

"Uhhhhhg! You're a freak _and_ you're stupid! Why don't you just let someone else do it?"

Eyes glistening with tears she refused to shed, Gretchen handed the book to Pepito before looking away.

Pepito scanned the book. He looked to Jessica with a satisfied smirk when her checkout was rejected with a hollow beep. "Sorry, you can't check anything out. Your last book is overdue." At that he gave her an appraising once over. "Much like your period."

She barely had time to manage a shocked glare before he raised the 'late' stamp and imprinted the word on her forehead in bold, red, capital letters. "Now those are scarlet letters." A few students laughed as her brows furrowed in confusion. Pepito sighed. "That went right over your head, didn't it? It's really no fun making fun of stupid people."

As more laughter filled the library, Jessica took on a air of hurt fury, and fled into the halls.

"I thought you weren't going to say anything!"

Pepito smirked with deep satisfaction when a loud smack was heard, followed by shrieking. After a few minutes of silent anticipation, he saw Jessica's boyfriend, Torque, enter with a red hand print on his cheek and a newly date free weekend ahead of him. When they made eye contact, he made sure to put on his best pretend apologetic face, as though he hadn't realized it was a secret. He was, after all, sort of friends with Torque Smacky. He shook his head when the other looked away. Torque was one of the only tolerable guys on the football team, and deep down he had a decent soul. But still, horrible taste in women.

After checking out most of the kids in line and giving Gretchen several helpful tips in relation to both library software and aid-student relations, aka how to put stupid bullies in their place, Pepito went in search of his first and favorite friend, who hopefully didn't have horrible taste in women or an intrinsic and ever-present need to lift things. He found Todd giving some trashy looking girl a death glare, and slipped easily behind the nearest book shelf, deciding to spy.

Todd had collected several books on the fall of past civilizations and more recent environmental problems. Of course, there were also a couple books on The Rogue Impact of 2050 CE, which had rained down smaller pieces of debris that struck the surface of the Earth in various places around the globe even after the biggest pieces had been diverted from their path of destruction, causing more environmental problems and setting back the progress of civilization a little as well. That event was a constant reminder of what might not have been in the history books now, so most of his classmates would probably write about it. He had dumped them all on a table near the back of the library, and was systematically skimming them for ideas when he was rudely interrupted by a rough looking girl in a stained shirt reading "Syd" who he could only assume was currently skipping special ed because of ... well, nearly everything about her.

"Duhhrrrr ... your writing sucks ass! You should learn how to write a book. M.O.O.N. That spells book! I mean, damn boy, you use some big words in dere. Are you retarded? You think people like them big words? I don't like big words cause I don't know what they mean. Big words hurt my head meats! You gave me a goddamn headache! Are you fucking happy now?! Huh? Huh?" 'Syd' had taken it upon herself to look through his notebook, which was also on the table.

Why! Why did the stupid seem to seek him out? His eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, but he was resolved to remain calm and mature. Mature and calm. Mature and calm. The pen is mightier than the sword. The pen is mightier than the sword, especially when said pen harbors a knife inside! In a quick flash, the unkempt girl was penned through the eye and was busy gagging on a paperback dictionary that had been shoved down her throat. The ink from the book was probably turning her insides a dark blue, while the lack of air was turning her skin a lighter shade of the same color.

"Hello?! Pay attention to me! I need to put you down to make myself fell good, because I'm too lazy to even try make myself a worthwhile person!" she bellowed.

Her belligerent words drew Todd from his unwanted, but satisfying, daydream. "Look, I don't write for stupid people. Most of the subject matters I write about aren't appropriate for anyone under thirteen, so if you can't read at a middle skool level, you really shouldn't be looking at it anyway. And if you're not interesting in learning new words and concepts, then reading probably isn't gonna be your favorite past time. Now, please return my notebook, and go away. I don't really have the time to make you feel special." He thought that he responded surprisingly coolly, considering the homicidal fantasy.

'Syd' only shook her greasy head, and clutched the notebook to her stained t-shirt. "Nuh-uh. See, this is how I work. I make you feel like shit, and then you pay attention to me!"

Todd only rolled his eyes in exasperation with the situation. "Wow. Your parents must be pretty negligent if you feel you need attention that badly. Why don't you go talk to the counselor or something?"

At the word 'negligent' a red vein popped up in the middle of the girl's forehead, and she flinched. "Negli-whatsit?"

"Neg-li-gent." As 'Syd' flinched again, and raised a hand from the book to hold her throbbing brain, Todd raised an eyebrow in curiosity. Could it be that there actually was someone who was hurt by their own stupidity? The action was definitely worth repeating. "You know, inadvertence." Yep, there it was again. Either she really was in pain from hearing 'big words' or this was just a little game that got her more attention. One way or another, it could probably get his notebook back. "Maybe even insouciance."

The red vein on Syd's head was now pulsing erratically. Her grip loosened on the notebook as she backed up into the nearby bookshelves. "No ... more ... big ... words-_the pain_!"

With a shrug, Todd stood and made his way to the girl to pry the notebook from her not-so-ardent hold. "Ya know what your problem is? Well, one of them anyway?"

Syd watched him gather his things and stop a few steps ahead of her position through big dull eyes.

"Hippo poto monstro sesquipedalio phobia!" With that, Todd walked away.

And Pepito knew that was her undoing. The bulging aneurysm ruptured, causing blood to pool in her brain. This lead to a stoke, which sent her crashing to the floor as she lost function in the right side of her body. After a few spasms, her body went limp as she lost what little bit of consciousness she had processed to begin with.

When he heard the thump of Syd's body hitting the floor, Todd stopped in his tracks, and quickly turned around. A free floating feeling of unease descended upon him at the sight of her unconscious form. He was so shocked that he didn't even hear the bell that ended first period ring, though he knew that it must have because everyone was leaving. What if she was dead! Would he go to prison, or back to the mental institution, for murder ... murder by vocabulary. Heh heh-ahem! He was somewhat disturbed that his first thoughts were not actual regret for killing the girl, but worry for his own well being. Was he even sorry, or just sorry that it happened it public?

Before he could continue his train of thought, or even call for help, Pepito was dragging him away from the body. On the way out of the library, they stopped so Pepito could tell Gretchen to call the nurse's office for "Syd".

--------------------------------------------SCENE SHIFT--------------------------------------------------------------

As Zim made his way out of the crowded hall, and into the home economics department, he was disappointed that the sound of rambunctious teenagers seemed to rise instead of fall. Worse, the sounds mixed with alternating huymun musics that his classmates were watching on TV. As the late bell rang, he flopped down into a nearby desk and stared forward in boredom, waiting for roll to be called. That really seemed to be the only point of this particular class. About ten minutes later the teacher finally saw fit to grace them with her presence.

"Morning guys. Guess what? I just got divorced, so if any of you know any fine guys, hook me up with their number, okay?"

Dib looked up for long enough to watch several students groaned and a group of popular girls in the front humor her with obviously fake enthusiasm before rolling his eyes and looking back down at his magazine. Though he had never taken any of her classes before, he had learned over the last few years that Ms. Whatever changed husbands, and last names, so quickly that no one was ever really sure what to call her. Despite her knack for changing names faster than she changed wardrobes to make a feeble attempt at fitting in with the popular teen crowd, addressing her by a name that was even one marriage behind was sure to get a student shunned for months at a time. Not that it mattered much to him since he was already too unpopular to be anything but shunned to begin with.

"Okay, I'm not taking roll today. It looks like everyone important is here, and then some," Ms. Whatever finished, looking to the less popular kids.

"Now, down to business. There are several important projects that you guys are going to have to complete to pass this class. I'm going to leave the order and spacing of these up to you, and you can use your free time to work on some of them early or just goof off. These projects include cooking three meals in groups, sewing at least one garment each, partnering with a classmate for 'Baby think it over' and sexual education. The sewing and baby projects can be spread out individually throughout the semester, but everyone will need to take part in sex ed and cook at the same time. So, would you guys rather get this stuff over with early or put it off until the last minute when you have finales?"

From the middle of the room, Zita spoke up, without so much as a raised hand, to suggest doing the projects early. A few people spoke up in agreement, and the rest were silent in disinterest, which suited her just fine. She knew that she would likely get her way anyway just because she was one of the only popular people that refused to suck up to Ms. Whatever, which, of course, made Ms. Whatever seek her approval all that much more. It was really very stupid, and annoying, but it got her what she wanted.

"Alright, so I guess we're doing them early. Way to show initiative, Zita! Raise your hand if you want to start with sex ed."

Most of the popular kids raised their hands, so Ms. Whatever didn't even ask who wanted to cook first because they all the people that mattered had already voted. "I'll try to pick up some fun supplies with part of the lab money for this class tonight. If any of you have any requests as for as materials go, come by my office after skool and I'll see what I can do," she said in a seductive voice before winking at Chunk and Maki, the two football players in the class.

Zim shuttered in disgust at being subjected to such filthy human courting, and soon to be mating, rituals. Of all the classes he had taken since fifth grade, this was going to be the worst by far! His eyes narrowed, and he automatically looked to the back of the room where the Dib was hidden behind the latest issue of 'Crop Circle Magazine'. He was wasn't even paying attention to the sickening display at the front of the room! And this was all his fault!

As soon as Ms. Whatever stopped addressing the class to gossip and flirt with unwilling students, the uproar and music resumed, and Zim was free to confront the Dib-thing. His boots made little squeaky noises as he marched up to his arch nemesis, who was _still_ ignoring him.

"Dib-stink! Zim demands you're attention! Give to Zim!"

At Zim's insistence, Dib peeked out from behind his magazine and raised a brow. He was, for once, more nervous than annoyed, or even paranoid. "What do you want, Zim?"

Zim glared, throughly annoyed with the Dib ignoring him all morning, causing him to be subjected to the horrors of Home Economics and only half paying attention to him, even now. His left eye twitched at the stink-beast's snide tone. Suddenly, his hand shot out, and he snatched the magazine away, tore it down the middle and tossed it over his head. "Zim wants your _full_ and _un_divided attention right _now,_ Dib-thing! Why are you ignoring me?"

"Gee, I dunno Zim, maybe because you just had to open your big mouth this morning to help Miss. Bitters embarrass me? Maybe because you're acting even weirder than normal lately? Or maybe it's just because you're an _alien_ menace here to _destroy_ the _Earth_!" Half way through his impassioned outburst, Dib had stood and was now face to face with the alien scum.

"Uuuggg! You are always mad about the stuupidest things! And how am _I_ acting weird? You are the one who is always changing emotions at the fall of a head ornament! _You_ are the one who decided to take this _disgusting_ class! And _you_ are the one too distracted by pathetic huymun social pressures to notice that your 'precious' planet is in danger!"

Only when he paused to breath did Zim noticed that he and Dib had, by now, assumed an all too common pose. They were so close that their foreheads were touching, eyes baring into each other as if their passion was too great to be expressed with mere words and so required a melding, and dueling, of minds. Of course, now that Dib was almost a begrudged head taller, he had to lean down and Zim had to stand on tip toes, but the customary effect was achieved, and Zim could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins like molten supernova debris.

Why could nothing else compare to his rivalry with this Earth-creature! And why did it always leave him so confused? Zim did not like feeling confused. He did not like the way the Dib made him say the most nonsensical things, the way the Dib was so flushed in scarlet when angry or humiliated like now and that morning. What kind of creature turned pink ward off verbal attacks? It was so hideous that it was almost adorable. He had to do something about it, but what?

"What are you talking about, Space-boy? Of course I realize the Earth is in danger! It's _always_ in danger, because you're _always_ trying to destroy it with your stupid _evil_! And even when you're not, humans are doing your job for you! You think that's a _stupid_ thing to be mad about? How would you feel if-" A loud smack cut him off and drew the attention of the class as the force of a black gloved hand against his face sent Dib crashing to the floor to land roughly on his back.

"Shut up, Dib-bitch! Just shut-up!"

Dib used his arms to push himself into a sitting position and stare at the alien, more in shock from his words than the violent outburst. "Zim. Did ... you just call me a bitch?

Zim assumed a smug demeanor, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away to hide his mutual surprise. "You heard me human." As he looked away, he finally noticed the entire class watching them, some gaping in surprise, some snickering in amusement and one, Keef, of course, staring in horror.

"I'm normal! This was just a regular human fight about some regular human issue!" He pointed one of his three fingers at Dib as he thought up some meaningless human offense. "He ... he ate my muffin!"

Much to Zim's annoyed confusion, the class erupted in laughter. "What, Zim said nothing funny! Stop laughing at Zim!"

Chunk yelled above the laughter. "Hey, Zim, did he butter it too? I knew you were a girl! Why'd you tell me you ain't? Don't tell me you'd rather date _Dib_ than me!"

While Dib was once again red in the face, Zim felt like jerking off his wig so he could pull his lekku out in frustration. Did these overgrown simians never learn? And why did Chunk suddenly think he was female, and thus a repository for his germs, once again, anyway? What did butter and muffins have to do with sex? Dear Tallest, these humans were driving him crazy!

He had to yell even louder than Chunk because the volume of laughter had increased even more after his comments."For the last time, I am _not_ female! And Zim dates no one! _No one_! But if I were interested in marking occasions with a filthy pig-smelly, the Dib would-"

"Zim! Will you _please stop talking_!" Dib yelled, getting to his feet.

"Neveer!" After that, however, he did quite down, mostly because the Dib-beast had caused him to forget the point he was trying to make. Luckily, it also reminded him of why he was talking to Dib in the first place. It would be impossible to tell the Earth-boy about his suspicions with all those morons focused on them, though.

There was a brief silence as Dib and Zim stared alternatively at each other and their classmates, and Chunk looked like he was trying to decide if Zim was telling the truth about his sex. Keef took advantage of this to push through the crowd and stand between his two bestest buddies. "I knew it! I knew you two would grow to be friends! And its all because of me!"

Keef gave himself a cheerful hug, which made Dib think that he was either related to Mr. Eliot, or the two spent way too much time together.

He stopped mid hug and grew serious. "Although, your relationship does seem to be a bit on the dysfunctional side." His spirits became gleefully excitable again as he thought of a solution. "Maybe I can help! How about we all make footie pajamas for our sewing projects! Then, you can both stay the night at my house, and we can stay up late watching movies, playing games like truth or dare and talking about relationships! And in the morning, I'll make waffles!"

At the mention of footie pajamas, Dib cringed."No, Keef. No. I am not going to make or wear footie pajamas. I am not going to stay the night with you. I am never going to join the circus. And I am not going to talk with you about the relationship that Zim and I do _not_ have."

"Aww, but Dib, you two are such good friends, and you have such chemistry, and Zim even talks to you without removing your organs ... and the circus, well, that's just really fun."

Keef was suddenly pushed aside as Chunk took his place. "You and Zim ain't goin' out?" He gave Zim a look that failed at being seductive, but still conveyed his intentions. Even if Zim was a boy, he still looked feminine enough, and hot, even with the strange skin condition. "So, Zim, how about that date? I promise to show you a real good time. Maybe we can even borrow a few of the things the teacher is bringin' tomorrow."

As Chunk took a step closer, Zim darted to the side, and latched onto Dib's currently trenchcoat-free arm. He gave him a pleading look before launching into yet another attempt to elude this especially grotesque brute. "No! I can not date you, because I _am,_ in fact, in a sickeningly twisted, _putrid_, yet satisfying relationship with the Dib! We just hide it _ingeniously_, because, like any normal human wormbabies, we are afraid of being judged by filthy human social norms because we are both boys! _Boiiis_!" If the Dib played along, maybe this would work. Now he had proclaimed the Dib as his love-pig _and_ restated his maleness. He was such a _genius_!

Dib was at a loss. He was too shocked to say anything. Instead, he simply hid his face behind his own free hand. He suddenly felt very exposed without his trenchcoat, which was currently wrapped around the back of his desk. He took a deep breath and spread two fingers so he could peek out at Chunk, whose green eyes glared with jealousy from his plumb face. This could be bad, real bad. It probably wouldn't be as bad as a date with the biggest drolling moron on the football team, though. It was a fate he couldn't condemn even his greatest, and most amazing, enemy to. He had to admit, the way Chunk looked at, and spoke to, Zim made him feel sympathy for the alien. Plus, the chances of anyone believing his denial of Zim's obvious lie weren't very good. No one ever believed him.

"Is that true, Dib?" Chunk grit out through clenched teeth.

Zim felt the Dib's hand travel down his arm to find and grasp his gloved one. He let out a sigh of relief as Dib dropped the other hand from his face and straightened his posture to look up at Chunk.

"Yes, Chunk. It's true. Zim is my ... he's my ... my boyfriend. Yeah."

"Boyfriend? So, he really is a boy then?" Chunk smiled sadistically. "Well, I don't date boys. What do ya say I just get to know him a little?" He gave Dib a lewd wink. "You know, just to find out for myself."

Dib could feel Zim shiver at Chunk's suggestion. He didn't know if it was from fear or disgust, but it was certainly making _him_ sick. Why wasn't Ms. Whatever doing anything about this? It was people like Chunk who almost, _almost_, made him want to just give up his fight, and maybe even help Zim with his mission."Just try it, asshole."

Chunk shrugged and arrogantly strode over to the couple. Before he could raise a hand to touch the disguised Irken, he felt a fist connect with his face and then the floor with his butt. Blood was streaming from his nose. For a lanky, whinny nerd Dib sure could throw a punch! Good: maybe he could get a fight, which he would win, _and_ a fuck out of these two. The fuck would have to come later, but right now was as good a time as any to put Dib in his place. He wiped the blood from his face like he usually did with snot, but as he started to rise he saw his prey go running by him and out the door. Hey, they were pretty fast! Fast enough to make quarter back maybe, though if they ever got tackled ... wait! After them! Chunk heaved his large self off the floor and made to run after the two, but soon found his way back to the floor.

"Chunk! Buddy! Did that hurt?" Keef certainly hoped so. He smiled to himself as he retracted his foot and played nonchalant. He had to protect his bestest friends. Besides, even if Chunk suspected him, he wouldn't dare lay so much as a finger on Principal Eliot's favorite office aide. He might not have ranked very high on the skools social ladder with the students, but almost all the teachers loved him, and, at least during skool hours, that meant power.

--------------------------------------------SCENE SHIFT--------------------------------------------------------------

Todd was quiet, and still in shock, as he allowed his friend to drag him through the hall, which was crowded with students who seemed to know to stay out of Pepito's immediate path. When they left the building all together, he finally forced himself to speak, but his voice was shaky. "Pepito, where are we going?"

Pepito gave Todd's hand a reassuring squeeze as he pulled him through the door that he was also holding open. "Just to the courtyard. We don't need anyone to overhear us."

Pepito led him to a large oak tree, located about an acre to the left of the skool. This open field was sometimes used for P.E. classes, but today it was mostly deserted. He released Todd's hand at last, and sat down in the grass. "Come, sit. Let us talk."

Todd looked from the ground to Pepito hesitantly. After a moment he took a seat against the oak. He really did need to talk to someone, and it might as well be the one person who already knew. This definitely wasn't something he could talk to Brian, Letta or even Dib about. Even Johnny would be disappointed, since he had been working, in admittedly strange ways, to make sure Todd didn't turn out like him all these years. "I ... don't really know what to say." He let out a long sigh. "Do you think she's going to die?"

"It's difficult to say. Perhaps not, if they're fast enough, but you know the skool system. They'll probably just think she fainted and stick her in the nurse's office, waiting for her to wake up."

"Should I do something?" A single tear rolled down Todd's cheek. He felt so lost, so confused, so helpless. He felt bad for not feeling worse. He felt bad for being so weak.

"Do you want to?" Pepito scooted closer and gently put an arm around the slightly smaller boy. He pulled a slim cell phone from his pocket and proffered it to him. "You can use this to call for help, if you feel that's what you should do."

Taking the shiny, red phone into his hand, Todd stared at it. He was wasting valuable time, time that could save someone's life, time that could sentence him to a life of captivity. His mind was so scattered that he hadn't even thought about the phone in his own bag. He turned the phone around and around in his hands several times as if examining some novel invention. "Is this some sort of test?"

"Nope. This is just you and me and a decision." Pepito let out a sympathetic sigh as he wiped away the tear. "Whatever you choose, Todd, it's not the end of the world ... and believe me, I would know." He tightened his gripe on the Todd's shoulder and the semi-embrace with it.

Todd looked up briefly into Pepito's eyes as more tears fell from his own. He was fighting back sobs, trying not to break down completely, but it was a losing battle. "I ... sniff ... I don't ... know ... what to do." With that, he buried his face in his own arms and finally gave in to the despair.

"Shhhh. Don't cry, Amigo. It's okay. Everything is going to be alright." Pepito did his best to comfort Todd as he pried his cell phone out of his iron, still undecided, grip. "Try not to make too much noise, okay?" He moved his hand up from Todd's shoulder to softly stoke his hair, like his own mother had often done for him, and like he knew Todd's mother had surely never done for him. When the boy quieted he dialed nine-eleven ... supposedly the number commemorated the tragic date of a terrorist attack many years ago.

"Nine-Eleven, how my I help you?" asked a pleasant, strangely cheerful, female voice.

"Hi. I'm a library aid at Lackadaisical Hi Skool. I'm calling to report what I believe to be stroke. A little while ago a girl with the letters S. Y. D. on her shirt showed symptoms of a cerebral aneurysm and passed out. I believe she is now in the nurse's office."

"Okay. I'm sending someone right now. May I ask who's calling?"

"My name? Pepito Diablo. I'm a first period library aid. When I saw her she was alone in the back reading a thick book. Then this red vein popped out of her forehead, and she just fell over."

"Thank you, Mr. Diablo. Did anyone else see the incident?

"No, not to my knowledge." Pepito was very glad that this conversation was taking place over the phone, and not face to face. He was generally not a very good liar. Though in all fairness, this was a very small lie.

"Well, thank you for your call, and have a great day!"

Pepito hung up, and closed his phone. "That was ... enthusiastic." He looked to Todd, who seemed much calmer. His breathing was still ragged, but he was no longer sobbing. When he peeked up from his arms, Pepito gave him a small smile. "The girl will probably be fine."

Todd thought Pepito was just saying that to comfort him, but was thankful for it all the same. Speaking of thankful, Pepito had just completely covered for him. He sat back against the tree and leaned his head against the other boy's. "Thank you, Pepito. For everything."

"No problema, Amigo. That's what friends are for. Heh. If you got the shovel, I got the lime."

They both laughed together, but Todd's was a mix of true amusement and regret. Pepito's hand brushed through his hair once more before falling back to his shoulder. "Squee, look at me. I saw the whole thing. It wasn't your fault. You didn't mean for her to have a stroke."

"Maybe. But I still caused it. I knew I was hurting her. And the worst part is that I'm not sure I really feel sorry, even now."

"Do you remember back in second grade when I told you that you were different, like me?"

He took a deep, cleansing breath and turned to Pepito, almost afraid of what he would reveal. "Yeah, I remember."

"I know you thought I meant that we were both evil. I admit that I am, but what I meant about us being alike was that we're individuals. You're a real person. You think, and feel and question. You think life is supposed to have meaning, even if it doesn't have reason. You're not just some sheep waiting for a mindless slaughter. That girl was a sheep. She probably never had as much as a sentient thought in her whole life. For her, every action, every thought was just another way to avoid personal growth, a way to fit in with the other lemmings, and a way to keep others down. Think of it this way. Even if you did kill her, it was a mercy killing. It's hard to feel sorry for killing someone who was only pretending to be alive."

Todd gave him a half smile. It was a small token of gratitude, but it was real. In spite of himself, he really was starting to feel better. He wasn't even crying anymore.

Pepito returned the smile as he watched him wipe the remaining tears from under his eyes with the back of his hand. As he stood, he made sure to give Todd's hair a thorough ruffling. "So, we've already skipped second period. Wanna go get an early lunch? I've got my car here," he asked enticingly, offering a hand up.

Todd's smile broadened at the thought of no more skool for the day. "Sure, why not?" He took the offered hand and let Pepito half pull him to his feet.

As the two walked through the field in the direction of the parking lot, Pepito warped his arm around Todd with a devious smile. "Oh, and Todd?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm afraid I'm obligated to do this." He cleared his throat and made a what he knew to be a sad attempt at assuming an evil voice. "Come to the dark side: we have cookies and hawt alien love." He suddenly dropped the evil voice. "Wait."

Todd nearly missed the next step. "What! You have _what_?"

"Nothing! I, uh, don't know where that came from. Can we pretend that didn't just happen?"

"Kay." Todd tried to stifle an agonizing need to laugh, but failed miserably. "Hahaha ... I'm sorry-hahaah-I'm not laughing at you ... I'm-hahah-laughing with you."

"But I'm not laughing." Pepito faked a hurt look.

Todd warped an arm tightly around Pepito as well to prevent his escape. "I can fix that." Suddenly, his other hand assaulted the other's stomach and arms with what was probably relentlessly painful tickling.

Pepito made a desperate attempt to flee his grip, but only managed to send them both into a rolling tickle fight in the field. Fifteen minutes later, they finally left the skool with messy attire and dried grass along for the ride.

* * *

Notes:

-"Syd" is not supposed to be representative of all, or even most, special ed students. I am not calling special ed students stupid. There is a difference between stupidity and ignorance and a difference between being stupid and having a learning disability. Truly stupid people hate learning and anyone/thing that challenges them intellectually. This is what "Syd" represents, and she may or may not actually have a learning disability (some people without one are in special ed just because they refuse to learn). I am also not making fun of people with fear of big words. I just threw that in there as the final blow to emphasize the absurdity of the name of this phobia. Again, "Syn" may or may not actually have this phobia. Sorry I had to break that word up, btw. For some reason ffnet won't let me post it as one word (it disappears every time I add it back in!).

-I'm sure some readers have noticed that I am using the term lekku for Irken antennae, as Neo and Kitteh do in their stories. This is because when I was researching the biology of earth and fictional alien antennas I discovered that the term was originally used to describe the antennae of the Twi-leks, an alien species in Star Wars. They were also known as "brain tails" because they contained part of that species's brain much like the human upper spinal cord. I just thought that this would be an interesting additional function of Irken antennae.

-Mrs. Whatever is based on a real teacher I had in High School. I only took one home economics related course.

-I know, Zim is being silly about the Bitters comment, but just look what happened in The Plague of Babies. He was right then, even though his idea seemed stupid. Maybe he has good intuition.

-I didn't mean to make it sound like Keef and Mr. Eliot are together romantically. They're not (in this fic anyway). Eliot is more of a mentor/father figure to Keef.

-As far as I know the quote I used for Pepito's strange "come to the dark side" offer is by Broken-Time on Deviant Art. This is a ZADR reference.

-The moon spelling thing is a reference to a character (who actually doesn't suck like Syd) in The Stand, by Steven King.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sublime Awakening Chapter Six: Transformations**

**

* * *

**Warnings: Mild sexual innuendo, implied violence, OC death (not very violent)

* * *

The steady pounding of two pairs of boots hitting tile inside the hi skool hall was interrupted by a squeak of grinding leather soles against floor as Dib was struck with a devastating thought. "Wait! My trench coat!"

Zim only clung tighter Dib's hand when he tried to turn back down the hall to the home-ec department, the holding place of his cow-skin garment. "No way, Dib-Stink! Has a Glorgarian space slug crawled in your head cavity to feast on your brain juices? We are _not_ going back there!" He then used his superior Irken strength to jerk the Dib back toward himself.

When Dib found himself once again facing the Irken at close proximity, he displayed his very best kicked puppy look. He had discovered over the years that, while Zim claimed to lack "pitiful huymun emotions", he exhibited quite a few of them all the same, including pity and sympathy. He had seen GIR use this maneuver many a time to get his way, and had even, he was somewhat ashamed to admit, used it himself to get out of a few of Zim's traps.

At the Dib's pathetic look, Zim felt his eyes grow ever so slightly moist, meaning that their usual crimson had softened to a dark pink beneath his contacts, which was no doubt causing the lavender hue that he presented to the human world to fade to a true blue. Curse the Dib for knowing him so well! "Look, Dib, we can't go back there. But do not worry your humongous head. Zim will retrieve your primitive vestige later, or he will get you another one. Maybe you would prefer a whole cow?"

"My head's not big! Okay, I guess. But no whole cows ... or extra cow parts." He received a relieved nod just before once again being jerked down the hallway in the general direction of the junior hall. After a moment, though, a question twisted its way to the front of his mind.

"Hey, Zim, do aliens really mutilate cattle?"

Zim rolled his contact-covered eyes at the Dib-thing's question, a gesture he had picked up from the humans, and the effect of which was lost with his bare, Irken eyes. His mouth curved up in a mischievous grin. "Of _course_ we do! You see, Dib, we aliens, every species mind you, _need_ the cow parts for er ... reproduction because ... eh ... we lack-jelly sacks!"

Dib couldn't help letting out a small laugh at Zim's ridiculous claim, but his brows furrowed in confusion near the end. "Jelly sacks? What does jelly have to do with reproduction? Cows don't have jelly sacks ...."

"Everything!" Zim came to an abrupt halt in front of Dib's locker, almost sending the confused boy slamming into him. He turned to give him a questioning look, one eye half closed and the other wide open. "Eh, no jelly sacks? Then how do they exchange genetic materials and form eggs?"

"Uh, they umm ..." Dib found his face flushing once again, and that he was having trouble forming basic words. One thing he really did not want to do was explain Earth-based reproduction to the alien. Why was this so embarrassing?"Maybe you should just pay attention tomorrow during sex-ed."

"Perhaps. But isn't sex-ed about ... oh. So humans lack the jelly sacks as well? Is this common for Earth creatures?" He gave the Dib, who had lied to him about Earth matters in the past, a skeptical once over. "Is this like that time you told me that humans worship bears?"

Dib had to bite his tongue to stop the laugh that threatened to escape at the memory of Zim in a bear-suit, trying to convince the people of Earth that their beloved bear god, Yogi, had been reborn. "No, Zim. It's nothing like that. Sooo ... what's a jelly sack?" He suddenly wished for his trusty mini notepad, but alas, it was in his trench coat in the home-ec department. He spared a longing look in the direction of his forsaken treasure.

"A jelly sack is a pouch located in the abdomen of Irken males and females that produces jelly: a sticky lubricating fluid that contains nutrients and genetic material vital to the formation of the egg and development of the embryos of Irken smeets, though now it is produced by the smeeteries-but you'll never know!"

"You just told me." The teen stated this in an attempt at a flat tone, even through his face was consumed in an involuntary smile. The smile was half pure joy at learning more about Irkens and amusement. Hadn't Zim said something about his proclamations of Tak being an Irken having nothing to do with 'jelly' a long time ago?

"You _lie_!" Zim gave the paranormal obsessed boy a conspiratorial grin. He loved tossing the kid little scraps of info every now and then. The look on his face was worth more than all the monies it costs to spend a twenty year foodening on Foodcourtia, not that he had any interest in doing so, even as a customer. "Now, retrieve your inferior, human computer from its metal storage unit. We have much to do!"

Dib's happy face suddenly turned to mildly suspicious confusion. "Mind telling me exactly what it is we have to do?"

Zim released a deep sigh to bemoan the Dib's questioning of his superior orders that he knew would be forthcoming as soon as he revealed them. "I have reason to believe that Miss Bitters is an extraterrestrial bent on dooming the Earth. If this is true she is a threat to both our missions. We need to find the location of her base and make an infiltration today while she is still at the hi skool."

"O-kay. Bitters is definitely not a normal human, but if she is an alien out to doom us all, why hasn't she made any attempts in the last five years that we've known her?"

"Do not question Zim! I am unsure of her motivation and method for dooming your pitiful planet. That is why we need to search her residence for evidence. Besides, worm-baby, you said it yourself. She is not normal. That means she is para-normal, which means you have to stalk her like you do me, right?"

Dib's eyes narrowed slightly behind his glasses in mock frustration. Over the years he had gotten used to the kooky Zim-logic. He had to admit, it would be interesting to find out the probable creepy truth about their doomy teacher. The main reason he had yet to do so was that the prospect of researching Bitters by himself was daunting. "Alright, but you have to agree to a temporary truce. And I prefer to describe my profession as that of a 'Contemporary Anthropological Interactive Observer' because it has just the right amount of flair. Besides, 'stalker' is such an ugly word."

"Yes, yes. Contemptible Antlerology Interfering Oppressor. That sounds magical. Zim will agree to this truce until the Bitters matter is resolved and that scum Chunk has been eradicated. We shall have the usual terms: no killing or causing serious injury to each other, no attempts to expose me for the 'horrible alien menace' that I am, no experimenting on you ... and you have to continue to be my love-pig until Chunk is no more that a hissing vapor of hydrogen and carbon evaporating into nothing on the surface of the sun!"

Slightly irritated at Zim's misconstruing of his joke, Dib wondered momentarily if the Zim was really that ADD and self-absorbed, if all Irkens were like that, or if he just did to get under the his skin. This thought was quickly forgotten as Zim laid out the terms of their truce and went into a short maniacal rant about hurling Chunk into the sun. He raised a brow and addressed Zim with an unimpressed tone, "You're going to chunk ... Chunk into space? Why do you always have to solve things by launching the problem into space? It's kinda predictable."

"Zim is not predictable!" The Irken stopped mid-rant, his playful, argumentative scowl evaporating, much as he imagined Chunk doing, to be replaced by stark confusion. "Wait! Predictable? Not evil, or cruel or criminally insane? Just ... predictable? Are you okay?" He pulled the boy even closer with the hand he was still gripping, so that they were a mere inch and a half apart. He tilted his head to the side to examine the Dib, as if he could find some obvious flaw that could make him forget about all those 'morals' he was always going on about. "Are your head meats functioning properly ... no ... make that normally? I thought you were dedicated to defending the whole biosphere of the Earth, even our horrible classmates."

As Zim raised a fist to tap Dib's head, as if checking if a melon was ripe, Dib pulled back as much as the other's grip would allow. "I am! To an extent. People like Chunk are ... exceptions. They hurt other people and generally make the world a bad place." He sighed dejectedly before giving voice to one of the more depressing aspects of his reality. "Sometimes the world needs defending from its own people. But anyway, I guess those terms are fine." He gripped Zim's hand, which was already clutching his own, and gave it a solid shake for emphasis before attempting to break free from the other. "Uh, Zim. Could ya let go of my hand? I kind of need it to get the lap top."

"Eh?" Looking down to see his hand still intertwined with the Dib's, Zim realized that they had been standing close together like this, holding hands, for some time. If his blood was not a dark yellow, which was lighter in contrast to his green skin, he might have displayed a visible blush. Instead, he swiftly released the Earth-monkey, and proceeded to make a big show of wiping the germs on his red shirt. It was strange, but for some reason the Dib didn't disgust him quite as much as the other human filth.

Once Dib had acquired his lap top, the two set off to the high school parking lot and his shiny new hydrogen powered land rover, which was a real army standard model, unlike the more popular, but structurally weak, SUVs put out under the name of land rovers, that his father had bought him for his sixteenth birthday the summer before last. It was metallic blue, but capable of changing color on command via the central computer. It was capable of extensive off road travel on extreme terrain, but it was still no space ship. The space ship was at home in the garage.

"Is this why you started working at that video store?" Zim gave the vehicle a skeptical look. Such pitiful human technologies couldn't even fly, much less make it out of the atmosphere! On the other hand, he had never heard of one succumbing to a death-bee.

Dib looked up from his hacking, from inside of the rover. "You can get in, you know. Unless you want to walk to Miss Bitters' house." He continued, somewhat sourly, as Zim took the passenger set, and the doors automatically closed. "No, my dad paid in full, and I'm on his insurance. I work there because my dad decided that he doesn't want to pay for my paranormal studies anymore. He gave me and my sister prepaid credit cards so he can keep track of what we buy. I guess he knows why I'm working there, but he doesn't seem to mind since it cuts into the time I can spend on it anyway."

"Is that ... 'normal' ... for Earthenoid parental units?"

"When they think you're crazy, and that your career choice is self-destructive? Yeah. Normally they're not dead set on their children going into their own field like my dad is, though. Sometimes I think he might actually disown me if I don't end up in some field of 'real science'."

For a long moment there was nothing but the sound of the clicking keys of the lap top as Dib continued his search for the password to Miss Bitters' skool account. He had already discovered that her phone number and address were not listed in the public directory, so now he had to use a remote exploit to set up a modified server that would collect and relay Miss Bitters' password to the skool's system. Then he would simply log in and find her address.

Zim drew one leg up to rest against his chest as he propped his right elbow on his knee. This allowed him to rest his head in his hand as he gave the Dib an unnoticed sympathetic frown. While he didn't know what it was like to have parents, he did understand being denied one's chosen role in life. He knew what it was like to be different. He knew what it was like to be deemed defective and unworthy, which the Dib definitely wasn't. "Dib-human?"

"Hmm?"

"I ... I'm sorry." He started off slow, but then the words left his mouth as quickly as possible. He couldn't remember the last time he had talked to someone seriously about something this sensitive. Maybe there wasn't a last time. Irkens tended to keep any insecurity they might feel to themselves as revealing them, or having them for that matter, was considered weak. On Irk this conversation would be almost taboo. Zim was very much out of his comfort zone, but it wasn't as if he had never broken Irken taboos before. Aspiring to personally rule the Irken Empire and then the Universe weren't exactly Empire approved goals, especially for someone of Zim's, barely improved, five-foot, three-inch stature.

At those words, words he _never_ thought he'd hear Zim speak in any situation, Dib's head shot up. His fingers stopped typing. The neurons in his brain nearly stopped firing. He slowly blinked twice. "What? What did you just say?"

Great. The Earth-boy just _had _to question it. He could never take anything at face value. "I said I'm sorry, Dib. I ... know it probably doesn't mean much coming from me, but I don't really think you're crazy." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, hoping the conversation would take some less ... pitiful direction soon.

Dib had to focus to keep his jaw from dropping in shock. His egotistical, invading, alien nemesis, whose identity rested largely on the fact that other humans thought Dib insane, had just expressed sympathetic condolences for this very thing. Wow. There were no words. None. But, being Dib, he tried to supply some anyway. "Zim. I. Uh. Er. That is. Well. I mean ... thank you."

"You're welcome, Dib-thing. Don't think this means I'm not going to conquer this stinking ball of filth, though." He sent the Dib a familiar challenging smirk in hopes of lightening the mood.

"But Zim, I never thought you were going to conquer it to begin with. Don't worry, though, I don't think you're going to stop _trying_ to conquer it."

"_Silence_! Planet owning victory shall belong to _Zim_! Do not despair, though, Dib-stink. If you're a good little huymun, Zim might let you be the overlord of all the other slaves."

"Keep dreaming, Space-boy! You're never going to win because I- oh, I've got her password."

"Is it 'doom'?"

"No, it's 'Shmee'. Humm. I would've never guessed that, though it does sound vaguely familiar. Well, just give me a second and- there! Her address is 1428 Elm Street."

"Excellent!" Zim was forced to sit in a variation of the standard fashion as the Dib started his automobile, and the safety belts automatically wrapped around them both. He stared determinedly out the window shield to cover his surprise. He brought his hands together just below his face in a natural non-imitation of a scheming villain, which he was. His three steepled fingers rhythmically taped each other as his green lips formed a cunning smirk. "The infiltration begins now."

--------------------------------SCENE SHIFT----------------------------------------

Todd looked away from the scenery, which was flying by an a startling pace, and back to his friend, whose driving reminded him a great deal of Letta's: fast, revellingly reckless, yet somehow controlled on some sort of unconscious, practiced level. "So the skool really did turn our class into zombies. And you really are the Antichrist?"

Pepito looked away from the road to Todd, who he knew he was making nervous in doing so. "Well, they weren't living dead, but they were no longer sentient beings with free will. There are different kinds of zombies. So, yes to the first one. Father really doesn't like me to talk about the second one though." He paused to give the other a wily grin. "Mind if I play some music?" Without waiting for a response he turned back to the road as his hand pressed a few buttons on the radio. His smile only widened as the music began to play.

Latin chanting was soon enveloped in a background of rock music. "Father also says I should listen to this song at least once a day. Something about me needing to work on my ancestral pride."

Todd's eyes widened as the simple Latin verses translated easily in his mind as whoever had sung it hadn't bothered to use the proper forms of some words in context. He simultaneously thanked and cursed his Letta for making him help her study for the Latin class she had taken in hopes of improving her chorus singing. Should he pretend ignorance? Should he tell his friend, the son of Satan, that he understood? Surely he had meant for him to. He felt as though he should be afraid, but it just wasn't sinking in. He took a deep breath, and let the words come out calmer than he felt. "You know, I, uh, know enough Latin to make out the lyrics."

"Really. Then I guess my secret is out." Pepito's voice came out full of amusement and relief. There was a hint of worry, but it was well hidden ... he hoped. He added a sarcastic "Oops" before glancing at Todd in the rear-view mirror to make sure he wasn't too freaked out. A part of him felt bad for telling his oldest friend such a disturbing truth, but he knew he would feel even worse keeping it from him and thereby contributing to his self-doubt. Plus, Todd was the only human, outside of his family and some of his father's followers, who knew the truth about him. It was selfish, but it made him feel less alone.

Pepito's tone helped Todd feel more at ease. Yeah. He had definitely meant for him to understand. That was good. He could deal with this ... probably ... maybe.

"_Unless his proclamations of friendship are just a big sham to steal your soul!" _

Todd swallowed a hard lump in his throat. Where did that come from? He cast his gaze on Pepito, who didn't appear to notice it. That meant it was probably in his head. Was it just a normal doubt or something more? Memories of the previous night came flooding back with chilling clarity. The bear. Oh God, the bear ... was just a stuffed toy! At the most an imaginary friend. Whatever it was, it was a part of him, and he was going to have to control it.

"You alright, Amigo?" Now the worry was showing for sure. He hoped against hope that he hadn't already scared Todd away, or scarred him beyond repair. "You're not going to try to ritualistically kill me with sacred daggers or anything, are you?"

As they pulled into a relatively nice restaurant, Todd forced a small smile. "No. Not as long as you're not planning on sacrificing me on a desecrated alter during a Black Mass."

Pepito's eyes widened as his brows rose in humorous curiosity and he slipped into the slimy underbelly of his mind that was riddled with raging teenage hormones ... and now a naked Todd awaiting him on a black velvet alter cloth to be 'sacrificed' in the traditional Satanic manner. This manner did not involve death, but rather the loss of a certain kind of innocence. "Aww. But you're so cute."

Todd gave his companion a very confused look. Was the Anti-Christ flirting with him? What did being cute have to do with anything?

Pepito swooped the car in to claim a single parking space before another vehicle. The old man in said other vehicle honked his horn and raised a middle finger in their honor. Luckily for him, Pepito was too preoccupied to care. He emitted a hardy laugh at the look on Todd's face. "Sorry, Amigo. You've obviously never been to a Black Mass. It's just ... hah ... there are sacrifices, but not the kind you're thinking of."

"Huh? But what does-" Todd's face turned a lovely shade of pink as his mind pieced the erotically sacrilegious puzzle together. "Oh."

There was a brief awkward silence in which Todd attempted to sort out his feelings about all these new revelations and lose the blush. He had to maintain some objectivity here. What if the creepy voice was right? Could he really afford to be as open and close to the other as he had so easily and quickly let himself become? He was never this close with anyone. He had learned to cover himself in protective layers of varying amounts of distance, sarcasm and even lies at the D.H.M.I. Without them he probably wouldn't be free from there. Without them he would probably end up back there again.

Pepito tried to shake the improper thoughts of his friend from his mind. Though he had known that he was overly fond of the other boy for some time now, Todd definitely didn't need any more added stress or complexity at the moment. What he needed was simply the truth that he had been taught to deny and a good friend to help him deal with it, to help him face the fear and doubt he had always been so full of as a child.

"Todd?" he said the other's name almost apologetically.

Todd, now less pink, tore himself away from his thoughts to look into dark brown eyes. "Yeah?"

"You don't have to be afraid of me. I would never purposefully hurt you. You know that, right?"

"I ... yeah, of course. I'm not afraid." Could Pepito read his mind? Did he know that, even now, the doubt lingered, not just about him, but about everyone in his life and most of all about himself?

"Good. Do you have any more questions about the past?"

"Uh, just one at the moment. When we were kids I remember you having some rather startling features ... "

Pepito smiled. He had known Todd had been stumped by his more human appearance that morning. So he really had seen his infernal manifestation all that time ago. "Yeah, I can explain that. You see, all living things have a spiritual counterpart. What you see now is my mortal form. My father, like all angels and demons, is essentially a spiritual being, though he can incarnate. I am a product of his incarnation and a human woman. My spiritual side is really strong by human standards, though my body is alive in the same way as yours. What you saw was a manifestation of my spiritual nature. I wasn't that great at keeping it hidden back then, though not many people noticed. Most humans can't see such things unless they're in an altered state of consciousness or about to die. Nevertheless, it was important that I learn to keep a low profile in order to ... well, you know. Evil and stuff."

"Evil and stuff? What kind of stuff?"

"Oh, just normal stuff. Evil spelled backwards is 'live', after all. Speaking of that, let's go eat food. Shall we?"

"Sure."  
----------------------------------SCENE SHIFT--------------------------------------

Gretchen and several other students looked to the cafeteria doors as they burst open, each hitting their respective sides of the wall, upon being drop-kicked by Dib's little sister: a freshman in a lacy, black, gothic dress and combat boots. Preformed by anyone else, her method would scream histrionic personality disorder, but the small framed girl's hazel eyes never once left her game slave five, the obvious reason for her hands being preoccupied, to take in said attention.

As she made her way to her usual table, Gaz ignored any gazes that remained on her, probably judging and summing away, though there weren't as many as there had been in years past. High skool was actually better than middle skool in that regard, and this point, the unwanted, indirect action barely even registered.

What did register, once she paused her game, was that her brother and Squee were missing. One glance around the lunch room told her that Zim was also no where to be seen. Growling lowly to herself, she slammed her vampire piggies lunch cooler, which had a convenient strap so she could wear it over her shoulder without disrupting her game play, onto the table's surface. As she slumped gracelessly into her chair she observed the other occupants of table, namely those who sat at the losers table in elementary skool with a few additions and subtractions, giving them a casual glare that said 'talk to me if you like nightmare worlds'.

As she forcefully removed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a pudding cup and a juice box from her cooler, the two empty seats at her sides were taken up by two other freshmen: Hanzhi, another goth girl with short dark hair shaped into points on either side of her head and Mephistopholina, a boy with medium blond hair and purple sunglasses. They, along with a plethora of alternative types, had sat at her table last year at the middle skool, and continued to gravitate towards her whenever possible. She figured they did it mostly for the inadvertent protection she offered, but they also seemed to consider her a friend as they never quite managed to shut their traps around her. While that deeply buried part of her that screamed for something close to normalcy secretly cherished this, it was _so_ annoying.

"Hi, Gaz! Check out my new nail polish. It's 'midnight black' sprinkled with 'manic panic pink'! I made it myself," thus saying, Hanzhi stuck her painted nails in front of Gaz's lunch for observance.

"Yeah, yeah. Get it out of my face. The contrast is giving me a migraine." With that she pushed Hanzhi's hand aside and took a large bite of her sandwich. She knew the other girl wouldn't be too upset. Everyone who chose to befriend Gaz knew not to expect forced politeness or faked interest. Strangely, several still chose converse with her.

There was a blessed moment of relative silence as Hanzhi looked thoughtfully at her nails, and Gaz continued to eat at breakneck speed so she could return to her game. The voices of about a hundred kids melted into background noise as Keef's voice became prominent from across the table. He was telling Gretchen something about Zim and Dib. Gaz was almost tempted to listen, but it was probably the same old crap she had been forced to endure since elementary skool. Those two ignorant jerks were always up to some "grand world saving or dooming" stupidity. Their little rivalry had gotten mushier and mushier ever since Dib had briefly dedicated himself to real science four years ago, but still neither one was willing to drop the charade. At this point everyone seemed to know but them. It was just ridiculous, and it grated on her nerves. Oh, how it grated!

"I wrote another poem," Meph announced with pride. "It's called 'Suburban Hobo'. Wanna hear it?"

"Uhhn. Whatever." Gaz swallowed the last of her sandwich and started on the pudding. This should be good for a laugh. If not she would just tune him out. After living with Dib for almost fifteen years she was good at tuning people out.

"Being underage is like being underclass. Living in my parents house, might as well be an underpass. My room is like a cardboard box. When my mom wants in, she never knocks."

Yeah. She was definitely tuning this out. After downing the pudding, she switched on her trusty game slave and began a gore-filled rampage that partly made up for the bad poetry in the background. To make up for it a little more she gave Meph's foot a good, hard stomp.

The boy gave a loud yelp as he was disrupted from reciting his pretentious attempt at poetry. Gaz could tell he was about to begin again, probably in a much lower voice, when another distraction announced its presence.

"Hey you! Purple-haired girl! Ain't you Dib's sister?"

Keef, along with everyone else at the table, besides the girl in question, looked up to see Chunk glowering down at Gaz. No one glowered at Gaz and lived.

Gaz's eyes narrowed even farther than normal, but didn't stray from her game. When she spoke it was an apathetic, yet threatening, voice the likes of which only she was capable of. "Yeah. What's it to ya?"

"I'm lookin' for him. Him and Zim."

"I don't know where those freaks are ... probably fighting or kissing in a closet somewhere. Now leave me alone before I doom you."

At the mention of kissing, Chunk's anger flared again. "The next time I see that pointy-haired wimp, the only thing he'll be kissin' is my fist! I'll teach him to date what's mine!" Oops. Saying that out loud probably wasn't the best way of getting information out of antisocial girl, but he wasn't smart. "Do you know where Zim lives?"

Gaz's attention was finally drawn completely away from her game at Chunk's jealous outburst. She gave him a shocked look for several seconds. There was just too much wrong with what her ears had been forced to imbibe. He wanted to date _Zim_? Dib was dating Zim when just this morning he had been in just as much denial as usual?

Shh. Doubtful. Chunk probably just assumed that because the two were so obvious with their obsession. And now he was jealous. Jealous of Zim. And he had just told her that he was going to beat up her brother. _Her_ brother. Didn't he know that the position of 'Dib's eternal tormentor' had already been filled? All these thoughts took a back seat as a sound she rarely heard anymore made itself known, followed by a collective gasp from those at the table. She looked back down to see 'game over' flashing on the screen of her game console, accompanied by mocking music to make sure she knew she was a loser. That's when the rage really started.

Gaz's glare shot up to Chunk. Oh, how she wished she had the power to shoot lasers from her eyeballs! She had to suppress the urge to shake with uncontrollable rage as she rose from her chair, which was sent flying back to land on the lime green floor of the cafeteria. Her hands clenched into fists as she stood to stare down her brother's bully. She took a long, deep breath before settling into a relaxed pose. Her hands unclenched. Her muscles untensed. Her black-lined eyes even un-narrowed a little. Then it happened. Her mouth curved into a friendly smile that she knew from practicing in the mirror looked completely and unnaturally scary on her face.

"Sure. I'll tell you where Zim lives." Her voice was almost cheery.

"You will?" Chunk wore a goofy and triumphant grin, the one he usually reserved for cheerleaders who agreed to give him head.

"Yes, but you have to do something for me first. You have to go out with me. On a date."

--------------------------------SCENE SHIFT----------------------------------------

"Zim, this is the historic district. This house has been here since it was restored and moved here in the late twenty-first century. If you were a world conquering alien, which you are, would you move into a restored Queen Anne house instead of setting up a modern base? Maybe she's just a vampire or something."

"Of course not. But when I came here, I was disguised as a human worm-baby so I couldn't really buy property. Plus, I didn't have my machine that makes Earth monies set up yet. Her base is probably underneath the spooky house."

"That was a rhetorical question. You print your own money?"

"Zim knew that! And yes. I have to keep GIR supplied with disgusting, _filthy_ huymun foods somehow."  
"Anyway, how are we going to get in without leaving obvious clues?"

"Just follow my lead, Dib-stink." With that Zim hopped out of the vehicle and marched up the walkway to the two story house.

Dib quickly grabbed a textbook out of the back set before scurrying after the alien. Maybe if he had a book they would look less suspicious ... even if it was a kollege text book. If anyone asked he would say that he was returning a book he borrowed for an assignment ... during skool hours for some reason. He tried to remain calm as he sprinted to catch up with the other and loudly whispered, "Zim! Don't do anything drastic! Nothing loud or noticeable that we can't fix!"

"Zim? Loud and noticeable? Don't be silly." He gave the Dib a short look and waved his worries away with a limp wrist. "Our infiltration of this house shall be as inconspicuous as my infiltration of this planet! Now! Watch me _amaze_ you!"

This reassurance didn't help Dib's nerves. Not at all. Did that mean they were going to blast a big, gaping hole in the front side of the house with explosives that would resonate at just the right frequency to shatter all the windows in the surrounding area? "Zim! Wait! Let's just check to make sure all the doors and windows are locked first, okay?"

"Nonsense! My plan is fool proof! You doubt the perfection that is the plan of Zim?"

"Uh, yeah. Pretty much. Look, you take the left side of the house, and I'll take the right. Just see if you can open any doors or windows without actually breaking in. Then we'll talk about the plan."

"Fine!" Frustrated, Zim stomped to his side of the house and immediately opened his Pak. His pak legs supplied him with a device of his own invention, which he pointed at the house to get a reading. After learning that the perimeter of the house was being monitored for bioelectric signals, he plopped down on the filthy Earth ground to wait for it.

"Ouch!" Dib was knocked back onto his butt by a rather painful shock after touching a window with his fingertips. Apparently Miss Bitters had rigged her house with a rather nasty, and probably illegal, security system. He felt rather stupid for not having considered that.

And there "it" was. A zippered smile broke out on Zim's face when the doubting worm-baby's cry met his lekku. It served the pitiful Dib-creature right for insulting the glorious plan of Zim. Speaking of plan, it was time for action. Zim sent a large electrical surge through the house to knock out the security system. He then threw a freshly fallen, thus still living, stick at the house. Nothing. Humm. Maybe the Dib should touch it again ... just in case. Eh, no time to waste. He approached the left side window closest to the house. A pak leg extended to cut a small circle near the top of the glass with a laser. Then a very small robot bee was produced by another leg. Zim used a remote control to direct the bee into the hole and then to the front door. Small robo-hands extended from the bee, which Zim used to manipulate the standard Earth locks.

"Zim? What are you doing? Don't touch the building!"

Zim turned to see a slightly charred-looking Dib walking toward him on wobbly legs. He felt a small, very small, twinge of guilt tug at his spooch, but managed to suppress it like a good Irken soldier. Alright, so in theory a 'good' Irken wouldn't have felt it at all, but still. What did Irken society know, anyway? He was Zim! Had the Control Brains not found him more than worthy? "Don't worry your overly large head, Dib-worm. The security system is now off, and all we have to do is open the front door. Are you not impressed yet?"

Dib gave his frienemy a dark, suspicious glare, knowing that he had probably let him get electrocuted on purpose. Even so, he did have to admit that, for Zim, this was a pretty impressive operation. So he let him have a begrudging affirmation. "Ya know, Zim, I actually am. Next time though, could you let me know that I'm about to be _electrocuted_?"

The alien just shot him a smirk that said 'Victory for Zim' before taking on an indignant air. "Only if you listen to my plan first."

The first thing Zim did upon entering the house was to locate the central computer, which was uncommon, but not extremely so, in Earth dwellings these days. His previous blast had caused major damage to the mother board, but to be sure there would be no memory of the brief scan the system had taken of Dib's biosignature, he released some nanobots to finish off the hard drive.

The nanotechnology was a huge surprise for Dib. It took all of his restraint to keep himself from asking why the Irken never tried taking over the world with it, lest he drop any unsavory ideas into the green head ... or the Pak. It seemed like Zim had more than enough technology to destroy the Earth or doom all its life, but he just chose not to use it. He had considered, many times, that he was just that stupid, but it was times like this that he knew that wasn't true. Maybe Irken intelligence and logic was just very different from its human counterpart. Or maybe it was something else.

After Dib painfully snapped on some gloves, as to not leave any prints, the two set about searching the house for clues of Miss Bitters' true nature. They stumbled upon various creepy artifacts-- a few skulls, some human weapons of mass destruction that had been dismantled, an assortment of films about human evil and the end of the world ... typical things one could probably find in Gaz's room, but nothing to support definite nonhuman status. Finally, out of desperation, Zim started scanning each room with the same device he had used to detect the electronic security system.

"Dib-thing! Stop trying to stuff your enormous head with corn and come look at this!"

At the sudden noise, Dib raised his normal-sized head from looking into the empty refrigerator only to hit it on the still open freezer door. "Oh! Damn." This was shaping out to be a not so great day for him pain wise.

He reconsidered his hypothesis about Zim simply being stupid, once again, upon arriving at his side. Zim was standing in front of an open broom closet, broom and dust pan included, like it was the T.O.E. that would finally unite Zimmy logic with real world fact. "Zim, that's a broom closet. You're ... not going to go on another cleaning frenzy are you?"

"Yes! I mean no! Though it is very dusty in here. It only _appears_ to be a simple Earth broom closet! This is a hologram. Behold!" As Zim pushed a button on his device, the image of the inside of a broom closet swayed and then faded out. In its place was a nice sized alien lab.

"See! Do you seee? I was right yet again ... because I am _amazing_! But did you believe me? No. Just like that time with the Planet Jackers ... and with Tak ... and with the Muulanians from planet Tissbeez! Why don't you ever trust Zim?" At the end of his rant, Zim accidentally let a little hurt slip from underneath all the gleeful pride at being right.

"Oh, I'm sorry Zim ... maybe _because you're trying to destroy my planet_?"

"Oh, yes, that. Heh, heh. But when have I ever lied to you about another threat?"

"Never, I guess. But your claims always seem so ... out of the blue. How do you notice this stuff?"

"Eh, I have insider information. And I'm a genius, of course."

"Of course. So, since you're such a genius, wanna help me find out the what, why and how of the Bitters invasion?"Dib tentatively stuck a gloved finger inside the newly revealed lab, just in case more pain awaited him, before stepping inside. His eyes grew large as he took in the various computer panels, mysterious alien devices and a small space ship with awe, as he always did on such occasions.

Then he realized something that even his mind, which he had been told was so open his brain was in danger of falling out, had at first refused to accept. The lab was a lot bigger than the build of the house would allow. There were a mere two feet between the kitchen wall and the living room wall, which held the "broom closet"! "Hey, Zim! I think the lab is a tesseract! This is so great!"

Ignoring the Dib's sarcasm, Zim stepped into the lab, giving him a small push for just standing there, in awe, directly in his path. He went straight for the computer, though he had no intention of turning it on. Unlike the human-built home computer, this one could actually be dangerous if it realized intruders were afoot. Ms Bitters must have gotten pretty confident in her disguise if she just left her inner defenses down like this. The computer of Zim was always on guard, and he was the great Zim! Although, Bitters probably didn't have an 'advanced' robot slave running around inviting pizza-humans and pigs into her base everyday. He absentmindedly conversed with his temporary ally while using instruments from his pak to open a panel so he could get to the hard drive. "Tesser-whatie?"

"You know, a tesseract! Like the Tardis on Doctor Who!"

"Eh? Who?"

"Yeah, Doctor Who."

"Who?"

"Yes!"

"What?"

"Who!"

"I don't know!" Stupid-stinking-humans always talking such nonsense!

"Uhg! Never mind Who. A tesseract is a four-dimensional hypercube. It would explain how this room is bigger on the inside than on the outside."

There was a metallic clang as Zim dropped the panel to the floor, but he continued to speak even though he knew his voice woud come out muffled as his upper body was now inside the computer console. "Ah! Yes, I noticed. It's very Meekrobian, but most of the other technologies here are closer to Irken."

Dib made his way to the ship, which was gray and bulkier than an Irken ship, but similar in other respects. It had a clear front shield like Tak's ship, but it seemed to be made of tougher, more rigid material. His hand reached out to touch it.

"Don't _touch anything_!" The words sprung from Zim's tongue with practiced ease because, well, between GIR and Dib they were very practiced indeed. He had emerged from the console lugging a rather large hard drive out with him. It was easily a good two by three feet long when one included all the extra memory disks plugged into the thing like too many power cords plugged into an Earth outlet extender.

Dib jerked his hand back like a scolded child. "How am I supposed to help if I can't touch anything?"

"Hmmm. You could go watch for Bitters. It is two-forty-five as of about three seconds ago."

"What? We need to get out of here, now! What are you doing?"

"We need the information on the hard drive, but I can't risk turning the computer on. If we just take it, she'll know someone was here." Irken technology was designed to be compatible with almost anything, and he could probably use his pak as a power source and use it to store the data, but the prospect wasn't a pleasant one. For all he knew, the hard drive could be boobie trapped with a virus. He would also be rendered helpless in the presence of the enemy for the transfer. Though this wasn't by any means the first time they had worked together, and he didn't think the Dib would go back on their momentary truce, he would definitely be taking a risk in doing so.

"What about my lap top? It's ... umm ... compatible with the system of your base's computer. Is there anyway we could hook it up to Bitters' hard drive?"

Zim shot some imaginary daggers at the Dib at the mention of the compatibility of their operating systems, which he knew existed so the Earth creature could hack into his base. Even so, he supposed it might come in handy now.

"Don't give me that look, Space-boy! If it hadn't been I would still be locked in a cage with an angry monkey beating the life-force out of me. Now, do you want me to go get it or not?"

"That horrible monkey! Yes, go get your pathetic excuse for a computer, and we will give it a try."

As soon as the Dib hurried back with his lap top, Zim hooked it up to the hard drive with several Irken universal adapters. After he gave the command to copy data from the new hard drive, a window opened up displaying rapidly scrolling lines of encoded text ... encoded Iorkian text. That was interesting. Very interesting indeed.

"Can you read it?" Dib kneeled behind the alien, attempting to make out the text over his shoulder.

"No, it's encoded. I will need to run it through my computer for decoding. But I know what race Bitters belongs to. The-nooo!," The Irken wailed as the Dib's sad piece of glorified calculator overloaded from the magnanimous task of processing and storing too much data too fast. He shook his mighty Zim-fist at it in retaliation. "Stupid, pit-if-ful, stupid, inferior, stupid, filthy human technology!" He paused to take a deep breath and regain some composure. "Dib-thing, I am taking this _stupid_ thing back to my lab. I can probably extract the data it stored before it realized what a shoddy piece of huymun engineering it was and dropped dead."

Standing, Dib moodily crossed his arms over his chest, an air of angst thickening around him. "Whatever, Zim," Why did Space-boy get to be so mad? It was his computer that had just 'dropped dead'! "But if you don't share what you learn with me, I'm going to tell Chunk we broke up." He really wouldn't, but as always, what Zim didn't know couldn't hurt the Earth.

"Fine. But if you threaten Zim again, you will be joining Chunk on the sun." He swiftly unplugged the lap top from Bitters' drive, which he stuffed back into the console. He knew it was an idle threat, and the Dib probably did too. Their rivalry had been full of idle threats and unexploited opportunities to completely thwart the other. They were both too addicted to the game, too addicted to each other.

Dib retrieved his poor lap top and watched Zim use four pak legs at once to screw in the panel. He let Zim's counter threat go unanswered. It was probably just the usual banter, and they really didn't have time to break into an argument. His wrist-communicator read three o' five, and he didn't know how long Bitters stayed after skool, if at all. "Zim, we need to get out of here fast. She might be on the way right now." He gave the lab a paranoid glance. "You didn't break the holo-projector for the lab did you, when you shut it down?"

"Yes, Dib. That's exactly what I did. We went through all the trouble of making sure everything we searched was left in its original position just so I could break the projector!"

"Jeez, Zim, you don't have to get all defensive. Is it really so wrong of me to expect you to do the same kind of stuff you do when your trying to doom the world when your trying to save it from someone else ... so you can doom it yourself? Maybe it is. You know, I'm starting to see a pattern here." Was Zim purposefully sabotaging his own world domination attempts?

"I don't know what you're talking about, worm-baby! My world dooming attempts are brilliant! I am Zim! Now, let's go." Before he could protest, Zim claimed his hand, yet again, and marched from the lab, reactivating the holo-projector on the way.

-------------------------------SCENE SHIFT-------------------------------------

Dib looked up from the register at Roc'n Rob's Media and Accessories as a red light over the entry archway flashed, signaling twin electrical bells to toll in an eerie fashion. He watched as a new customer made straight for the checkout with a menacing disposition: brand name sandals, short, tight skirt, pink halter top, shiny candy-toned jewelry, too much glittery make-up, narrowed hazel eyes and purple hair. Purple hair. No. It was impossible. He felt like his brain had melted and seeped out his ears onto the floor. And it was about to be stomped on.

She finally came to a stop right in front of his register to glare at him. Then she spoke in a low and dangerous voice, "Dib. You ditched me. I had to sit with Hanzhi and Meph at lunch. I had to take the bus here ... with Keef. It wasn't pleasant. There was too much noise. I could barely hear my Game Slave."

Dib was still staring in disbelief. It sounded like Gaz, but it just couldn't be. Gaz dressed like this was as unbelievable as Zim's skin condition. "G-Gaz?"

Her eyes narrowed even more. It was amazing she could even see, but see she could and it was worth it for the look of fear on Dib's face. "Yes, Dib. This is me. This is me _really angry_. Now, you know you must pay."

That just made him more confused. Why was she this mad about him skipping skool? It wasn't like it was the first time. Did she somehow blame him for her strange appearance? "Can I pay in cash or homework?" he asked hopefully.

"Homework. For a week. And you have to wait in line to get the next Game Slave for me when it comes out."

Dib let out a sigh of frustration and relief. While his sister's command was annoying, he was lucky to have escaped a thorough ass-kicking. In her teenage years Gaz had started to lean more toward non-physical payback, but every now and then she would revert to old tactics. "Fine."

"Gaz?" Both Dib and the girl in question turned to face Todd, who had just returned from stocking the shelfs with new videos. When he was sure that it was her, he continued in a shocked voice. "Why are you dressed like that?"

Gaz smirked at their confusion. Now was time for the real payback. "I've decided to become popular."

"What! Why? I thought you hated that crowd." Todd was beyond disturbed. This day just kept getting weirder and weirder.

The girl shrugged. "I do, but I've discovered that being popular usually involves hating other popular people, so it's okay. Well, I'm gonna go play video games for a while." With that she walked to the back of the store, where various games were sampled free of charge, knowing that she was leaving the boys feelings as though they had slipped into the twilight zone.

"That was ... kind of scary." As Todd made his way behind the check-out counter, there was another tolling of bells. Two more customers had entered: a green haired teenage boy and an old lady with gray hair and a large nose. The boy headed straight for the games in the back, which was sure to annoy Gaz. The old women gave them a disapproving look before disappearing into the video section.

"What was scary?"

Todd glanced over his shoulder to see an auburn-haired girl approach from the employee's area behind the check-out desk. Quartz earrings and a pentacle necklace accented her dark, store-required apparel. When she reached them she slipped an arm around Dib's neck and rested her head upon his shoulder to glance at him with inquiring blue eyes. "Gaz. She's dressed all ... glamy, and she says she wants to be popular."

"No way! Is she here?"

Dib's hand rose up to pat the her shoulder, slightly uncomfortably. Even though he and Vayowen were pretty close friends-- they had even tried dating for a month over the summer-- he wasn't really very used to close physical contact, not of a nonviolent nature anyhow. "Yeah, she's playing the demo games, but I wouldn't mess with her right now."

"Humm. Maybe later then. So, Dib, I heard from Zita that you're dating that green kid. Congratulations." She gave him a knowing smile. Through he insisted that his obsession with Zim was strictly professional, that obsession had been ... very obsessive and one of the main factors in their break up.

Great. Just great. Now she would never believe him. Thanks a lot Zim! There went one of the only people he had ever had any romantic interest in at all, straight out the window. She was going to think that he had lied to her. She was going to think he was gay. Gay with an alien! Was it really considered gay if it was with an alien? Zim was male, but was he male in the human sense? No! He was not thinking about the alien's genitals! Stop it! Okay, that's better. "Actually, I'm just pretending to go out with Zim because Chunk won't stop trying to sexually harass him. I know he's my enemy and all, but no one deserves to be afflicted with Chunk."

Her smile was replaced by a sympathetic frown. "Maybe if you play your cards right, you two could get together for real."

"I don't _want_ to date the _alien_! I want to _expose_ the alien." Okay, so that wasn't completely true. He did have mixed feelings about exposing Zim, but he was going to have to go to kollege in a few years. He couldn't just leave the Invader to doom the Earth, and he doubted that Zim would be willing to move to wherever he went to kollege so that he could keep him in check ... though maybe if he played it right he could convince him that it was what he wanted. Maybe he could even make him think it was his own idea.

"But--"

"No! No buts. Let's talk about something else."

"Okkay." She made it clear that she was disappointed in his continued denial. "What classes are you taking this year?"

"Honors English, Home Economics, Advanced Calculus, Drivers Ed, U.S. History, Physics and Photography."

"Very interesting." The smile crept back onto her face. "And how many of these classes do you have with Zim?"

Dib said nothing. He was clearly cornered. For a fleeting moment he thought he was home free when a disgruntled Gaz, who had apparently just had a run in with Iggins, stomped up to the desk, and hoisted herself up to take a seat on it. Vayowen was clearly distracted by her appearance, but unfortunately Gaz had taken an interest in the conversation.

"Weren't you ranting at me the other day about how good he is at math and physics, how you were afraid history would give him inspiration for his 'evil plans' and how he was having trouble understanding the concept of art in photography?" Yes, as much as she tried to tune it out, she seemed to passively absorb much of his ranting. The upside to this was that sometimes she could use it against him. "And Chunk told me that he, you, and Zim have Home Ec together."

At this point, Todd, who had been trying to comprehend all of the implications, interjected. "Man, Dib, do you and Zim have _all_ the same classes?"

"Of course, I have to watch him constantly to make sure he doesn't do anything overly evil!" Dib exclaimed somewhat defensively. Squee was supposed to be on his side! He was supposed to understand.

"Oh. How did you get into all of his classes?" Vayowen pried her eyes away from Gaz, and her freakishly popular dress, to tease Dib.

Gaz smiled mischievously. "They probably plan their schedules together. Isn't that sweet?"

Dib blushed.

Todd's smile imitated Gaz's. "Do you?" he asked somewhat incredulously.

Dib took a deep breath and mentally composed himself. "I don't know what you're talking about," he argued sullenly.

It reminded Gaz of a rather un-fond memory, which invoked a shadow of the taste of pig. This angered her, but also told her all she needed to know. He was definitely lying.

"Excuse me, young man, but I need to check this video out _now_, if you could break yourself away from your little friends to do your job for a few minutes!"

The irritated nagging of the old woman with the big nose burrowed into Dib's ears like an angry vampire mole at day break. He watched her look disapprovingly from one teen to the next, giving them all death glares except Gaz, who was, for once, dressed like a semi-normal teenage girl. Her eyes lingered longest on Vayowen's pentacle, before she turned her attention back to Gaz.

"Take my advice girrly and stay away from this lot of hoodlums. They'll draw you into their dark ways if yeh let them."

Gaz was too amused to even scowl at the old lady. This was new. Someone thought _she_ was the nice and innocent one. Maybe she could use this look to her advantage even more than she had previously suspected. Her lips formed a smile that was anything but kind, though the lady had already looked expectantly back to Dib, who did manage a scowl.

"Look lady, if you're going to disrespect us like that, I'm not helping you with anything."

"Why, I never!"

"Well, now you have! And you know what else-"

"Dib! Calm down. I got this." Todd stepped in between Dib and the register before he could protest. He wore a spiteful smile, though he was pretty sure it looked much more natural, and less scary, than Gaz's. The old lady, like most people, seemed to mistake it for a pleasant one as he turned to her. "May I help you?"

"At least someone working here has manners! Yes, I need to check this out." She handed him the case of 'The Overpasses of Madison Parish'.

He quickly scanned the case, but went to work on the register afterward. It displayed a serial number, which he erased and replaced with another. When he pressed enter the selected movie shot out of a slot in the checkout counter, which doubled as a storage and transport unit for DVDs. He then slipped 'Quiet Mountain' innocently into the waiting case, and exchanged it for the woman's money. The woman, Ms. Proboscis according to her account, snatched the bag and strode from the store, hopefully determined to never return.

"Why were you so nice to her? She sucked, and we're not obligated to be nice to customers here anyway. In fact, it's kind of discouraged," Vayowen inquired, pointing a thumb behind them at several wall posters, one in particular: 'Our creed is simple: If we can bring one little smile to one little face today, then somebody's slipped up somewhere'."

He just smiled wider and shrugged. "I thought she needed to learn a lesson. Arguing and being rude would just reinforces stereotyping. Don't worry though; she'll get what's coming to her."

"And what's that, Squeegee?"

When Todd turned around, his face contorted in shock. A very skinny man with blue hair and shirt prompting the questioning of sleep stood before the counter holding several DVD cases. The scary neighbor-man seemed to pop out of nowhere!

"_That's what his victims think, before he drags them down into his basement to cut off all their limbs and peal off their skin-while they're still alive!"_ a voiced seemed to whisper.

"Uh, n-nothing Nny. How are you?"

"Oh, you know. Same old, same old." He looked at the small crowd gathered around Squee suspiciously. The awed look the purple-haired one was giving him was almost scary ... almost ... dare he think it ..._fangirlish_. When he looked back to Squee, he smiled maniacally before pointedly looking down at his blood speckled shirt. "Today's really been a pretty average, shitty day for me. If you want, I can stop by tonight before you go to bed and tell you all about it!"

"No! I mean, I have skool tomorrow, and I really need to get all my homework done before bed. Here!" He tore off a piece of the long receipt that printed itself out for store use, but was never really used. "Let me give you my number. Call me sometime, and we'll hang out or something."

"Okey dokey." He took the paper carefully, to avoid physical contact, and stuffed it in the pocket of his black pants before slurping loudly on a suck monkey.

Todd was equally as careful when taking the cases from Johnny to check them out. Even after all this time, he still set him on edge. If this were not the case, he would be insane. Really insane. From what Johnny had told him, which was a lot, even those he was fond of were never really safe from his homicidal urges when they struck. So no matter how thankful he was for the part Johnny had played in preventing his lobotomy all those years ago, he could not afford to let his guard down around him, even if he who claimed to think of him as a younger brother.

Suddenly, Roc'n Rob's was assaulted by the high pitched voices of merciless, taunting teenagers from the mall walkway outside the store, making Johnny's eyes narrow.

"What's wrong with you? Are you crazy or something!"

"No, she's just wacky! And different!"

"What a fagot-butt!"

"Heh heh. Yeah. Fagot-butt."

Johnny swiped his bag of videos as prudently as possible, with a nod to Squee, before making haste in the direction of the voices.

A few seconds later, Todd cringed when his voiced traveled back to them one last time.

"Come back here! I'm gonna kill you until you die!"

Gaz stifled a laugh, still feeling slightly awed. "Was that Johnny C.?"

"Yeah," Todd responded worriedly.

"You know where he lives, right? Can I have his address?"

"Are you crazy? I told you guys, he kills people! A lot! Why do you want his address?" He desperately hoped she wasn't turning into a Happy Noodle Boy fan-girl _and_ a prep.

She forced the unnatural smile from lunch to return to her face, and the almost-cheer to fill her voice. Somewhere inside her soul felt like crying ectoplasmic tears. "For Chunk, silly."

"For _Chunk_! What do mean for Chunk?" Dib demanded.

"We're going out, and he likes Happy Noodle Boy. So I thought I would pay a visit to Johnny and get him to sign some copies of the comic."

"Going out? What does that mean!" Dib felt like he was trapped in another nightmare world. There was no way this could be real. Gaz had never shown any romantic interest in anyone. And now she was 'going out' with Chunk of all people!

Her voice instantly lost its faked cheerfulness. "You _know_ what it means, Dib. I'm going out with Chunk the way you're going out with Zim. Just ... without all the stupid fighting over the Earth bit."

He was tempted to yell about how he wasn't really going out with Zim, but she was trying to get him sidetracked, and he knew it. "Listen, Gaz, Chunk is bad news! He's the reason Zim and I are 'going out'. He's just after one thing, and he doesn't care how pushy he has to be to get it! You can't go out with someone like that!"

Gaz rolled her eyes. After all this time, and all those beatings, he _still_ didn't get that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. This was, however, useful information about Chunk. "I can and I will Dib. I can handle Chunk _and you_. If you really want to fight about it, we both know I'll win."

"We'll see." He knew she was right, but the protective big brother in him resisted it. He didn't even want to think about Chunk hitting on her, much less being aggressive. Maybe he should try to get Zim to launch him into space sooner. Gaz seemed to know something along the lines of what he was thinking.

"Don't touch him, Dib. I'm warning you. He's mine." And he was. He was hers to date, hers to humiliate and hers to finally destroy. Dib was not going to take that away from her. Not after this horrible make-over. He must really be an asshole if the 'protector of Earth' wanted him dead. All the better.

Dib chose not to comment. He would weigh his options later. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something very familiar. He turned to face his "boyfriend" head-on as he marched up to the counter and deposited a video, probably 'Intestines of War', in the return slot. As their eyes made contact, Dib's muscles tensed and his eyes formed narrow slits focused on Zim. He posed dramatically with his hands fisted. He opened his mouth to speak, but Squee did it for him.

"Ziiim." It was said moderately loud, but still low enough to sound serious and lightly challenging: Dib's usual confirmation of Zim's presence.

Dib just looked at him.

"Sorry, was that your line?" Todd asked, amused.

Dib's reply was much more serious. "Yes. Yes, it was."

Zim was confused, but continued as normal. "Hah! I have beaten your Pit-if-ful huymun establishment yet again! I am Zim, and I will _always_ beat you, Dib!"

Dib posed dramatically once again. "For the good of all mankind, I am ... going on a break."

As he signed out, Gaz looked back and forth between Dib and Zim. It was too easy. She simply couldn't pass it up. "You and your _man_-kind," she said with obvious implication.

Dib gave her a dirty look before rolling his eyes, and chasing after his alien-er, his enemy! Enemy!

Todd let out a sigh. "He's not coming back, is he?"

Vayowen smirked. "Probably not. Don't worry, I'll give you two a ride after we close."

Gaz growled at being ditched yet again. Stupid Dib! Stupid Zim! At least she wouldn't have to hear any more crap about Chunk for the night. She turned to her attention back to Squee. "So, can I have Johnny's address?"

"No." Maybe the simple approach would be best?

"No? Why the hell not?"

O-kay. Maybe not. How about the honest approach? "I don't want you to die. I like you."

Gaz felt her eyes widen until they were actually visible behind her lids. She raised a purple eyebrow. "You ... like me?"

Shit! What had he gotten himself into now! "Uh, yeah. In a, uh, friendly sort of way. As long as it doesn't mean I need to lose life or limb. If you really want it, I could probably get you some signed Happy Noodle Boy comics."

Gaz instantly relaxed. She could make this work. She smiled a rare, real smile that was only half creepy. "Sure. That would be great. You're a nice guy, Squee. I'll remember that."

--------------------------------SCENE SHIFT----------------------------------------

In his mind's eye, he saw it.

The hospital room was dark with the exception of a few basic monitoring devices silently announcing the status of the girl's heart and brain waves. All life-support systems had been shut off a few hours ago at the bequest of her parents, who didn't care enough to flip the bill for their comatose daughter any longer than necessary. Within a week she would die naturally of dehydration if left to her own, nonexistent, devices. But she wasn't going to be left to those devices.

Within the darkness, shadows swirled together, thickening into a human shape. As the form gained solidity it took several inaudible steps towards the girl, who no longer wore the shirt bearing the letters "S.Y.D.". It moved into the glow from the monitors, revealing itself to no one. An astral hand, tingling with spiritual energy, pressed itself firmly to the girl's head. The waves on the EEG machine crested and peeked sharply with the contact as her brain momentarily came back to life. The girl took in a deep, shuddering breath and her eyes fluttered open.

When her gaze landed on the dark, cloaked form, her fear was reflected by the fast drops and falls of the line on the cardiograph machine. If it had not been muted, it would have been beeping like crazy. She tried to open her mouth and scream, but a wave of energy from the hand paralyzed her.

Though she was frozen on the outside, on the inside she was panicking, thoughts racing. He could feel them. It wasn't fair! She needed to fight! To scream! To pray, even!

All thought slowed to the point of stopping when the figure leaned down, revealing himself to be a boy about her age with eyes like smoldering, red flames and skin like fresh green olives. He seemed somehow familiar, and almost against her will she was comforted by this familiarity. She felt herself calm even more as his hand gently wiped bangs from her forehead.

"I'm sorry. I don't usually do this. It's really my brother's job, but this is a special case." Pepito focused hard on keeping his face placid, free of emotion, even though inside he was faltering. Just touching this girl was disgusting after seeing her earlier treatment of his friend, yet that was the very reason he was there. He ran a seemingly steady hand through her messy hair, making sure to brush off all the diodes connecting her to the monitor. "Don't worry. Your Earthly suffering has come to an end."

Molten eyes closed as he sought a spiritually objective serenity that he wasn't yet willing to except into his own life, not completely at any rate. His breathing became deeper and more pronounced in his mortal body, and his astral body, in the hospital, reflected the same. When his mind finally reached that magical state of passive action, he felt his body fill with energy from the chaotic abyss, which was then channeled into the girl.

He heard her release a low gasp as the binds of her soul were cut from her body. As his hand rose from her flesh, her soul followed with it, sealed in a lightly glowing bubble of energy. "Do not be afraid." This time it was a command, and the weak soul obeyed without question. "May you pass beyond the veil." He felt the energy bubble expand, along with her soul, until it faded out of the dimension of time and into the realm of infinity.

The girl was gone, but her body remained alive. It needed a demon that could preform a high level healing session and it needed a soul under his father's dominion. A simple soul. An annoying soul. He knew just the one. Once again he closed his eyes to seek out that one, fitting, soul in Hell. He found it almost instantly, enduring its cyclical torture. His father had told him that this particular soul had once been a human advertising executive who put out the most annoying ads. In Hell, its punishment had been a constant replay of those commercials. He still remembered them from sitting in on the torture sessions. "HeadOn: apply directly to the forehead." Over and over. Just being there for one session usually made Pepito want to apply a sledge hammer 'directly to the forehead'.

* * *

END CHAPTER!

Notes:

-Dib's joke (And I prefer to describe my profession as that of a 'Contemporary Anthropological Interactive Observer' because it has just the right amount of flair. Besides, "stalker" is such an ugly word.") is a quote, but I don't have a source.  
-Zim's blood color- I read that Jhonon says that Irken blood is translucent pink, but in Planet Jackers Zim's blood appears to be bright green (a brighter and paler green than his skin). So I did some research on the biology of blood color in Earth organisms and speculative astrobiology. The color of blood differs according to the presence or absence of respiratory pigments and the type of pigment used by an organism. Coboglobin blood would be colorless or slightly pink when oxygen-enriched, but dark yellow or deep amber in the veins. This would resolve the greenish blood verses light pink quite well.  
-Dib's working at Rob's- I think I forgot to mention that he told Squee about Rob's to begin with.  
-Zim's height-Character appearance in this fic is realistic, meaning no balloon sized heads or toddler sized 5th graders. Most 5th graders are around 5 feet. Zim and Dib were the same height in 5th grade, so even if Zim does not grow anymore, he is a lest 5 feet. I only gave Zim about 3", but it doesn't seem that strange that Irken adults grow more because Invader Larb had grown since last he stood before the Tallest at the Great Assigning.

-1428 Elm Street is address where Freddy Kruger and then Nancy lived in A Nightmare on Elm Street.  
-The Song Pepito plays is "Ave Satani". The lyrics I have say it's by Fantomos (I think they sing an older version), but the actual song that I have is by Gregorian. Both say it's from The Omen (where it is composed by Jerry Goldsmith). BTW, this is dog Latin, meaning not proper Latin/wouldn't really translate to have the same meaning here the way it is used.  
Phrase Translations in Alphabetical Order:

Ave! Hail!  
Ave! Ave Versus Christus! Hail! Hail the Antichrist!  
Ave Satani! Hail Satan!  
Corpus Edimus. The flesh we eat.  
Sanguis Bibimus. The blood we drink.  
Satani! Satan!  
Tolle Corpus Satani! Raise the body of Satan!

-Mephistopholina and Hanzhi aren't OCs. They are minor IZ characters from Gaz's class. I think Meph was a girl in the show, but I got the false impression elsewhere that stuck.

-TOE-Theory of Everything-grand unified theory-holy grail of physics that would unite relativity with quantum mechanics.  
-Tesseract--A twenty-four sided mathematical model that's "bigger on the inside than the outside." The best example of a Tesseract is the Doctor's TARDIS. A hypercube is a multidimensional analogue of a 3-dimensional cube in that each coordinate of a point in a hypercube is restricted to the same 1-dimensional (line) segment. The Tesseract is a 4-dimensional hypercube. In this instance the forth dimension is a spacial one, not time (which is usually the forth dimension).  
-The DVDs: "The Overpasses of Madison Parish" "The Bridges of Madison County" and "Quiet Mountain" "Silent Hill". This supposed to be the future, so most of the movies from today wouldn't be that popular, but I want the reader to understand the kind of stuff I'm talking about without explaining it in the story soo...this is a compromise built on silly parodies like McMeaty's. Also, from the first chapter, "Trendy Subject" is like Hot Topic.  
-The quote on the poster that Val points to is a slightly modified version of one by David Frost.  
- "I'll kill you until you die" is a quote, but I couldn't find the source. I tried to make Nny in character, but I don't think I did a good job. At this point, I had not read most of the JTHM comics (just Squee and obviously everything to do with IZ) so I didn't really feel comfy writing Nny.  
-Vayowen's name is pronounced Vay-o-win.  
-Pepito's brother is Death. A lot of the cosmology/mythology in the SubAwake universe is inspired by literary sources, especially John Milton (according to Paradise Lost, Death and Sin are the first children of Satan) and William Blake (who will play a much bigger role soon).  
-I kept referring to the soul that soul that is replacing "Syd" as "it" because I couldn't find the name of that person on the internet, so I don't know it it is a man or a woman. Maybe they don't want to be found because so many people hate that commercial.


	7. Chapter 7

**Sublime Awakenings Chapter Seven: A Bloody Light**

**

* * *

**Warnings: Light drug use, violent character deaths, sexual implications, forced make-out

* * *

The room was a soft pink; not at all the color he had expected it to be. There were posters of pop stars covering older posters of a more sinister nature, which Gaz had obviously been too lazy to take down before redecorating. Only one of the older posters was left uncovered: a heartagram above the bed they were both sitting on. Signed 'Happy Noodle Boy' comics were spread on a light purple comforter that was speckled with little pink hearts.

"I want to thank you, Squee." She was smiling that sweetly unnatural smile again. It, and her voice, reflected hidden pernicious intent. "For getting me Johnny's signature."

Todd was filled with a nervous excitement. He wasn't sure if it was fear or anticipation, but as Gaz crept across her bed, in his direction, with feline-like grace, he felt it building steadily. He found himself leaning back as she reached him and kept crawling, right into his lap.

"I want to thank you for being such a _nice guy_." Gaz's smile only grew as she leaned over him and pulled the boy back toward her, her black fingernails nearly ripping holes in the fabric of his shirt.

As his face was drawn closer to hers, their eyes locked. Something was wrong. Hers were completely unnarrowed and full of a distracted, far away look. They were full of emptiness, of nothing. He tried to pull away, but she was surprisingly strong. He attempted to voice a protest, but before the words could escape, their lips were pressed together hard.

His eyes closed, and he could almost suppress the sense of foreboding. Her lips were kind of nice, even if they were covered in sticky gloss. He gasped when he felt her warm tongue trace his bottom lip, allowing it to enter his mouth. A warm and tingly sensation shot through his abdomen for a brief moment as their tongues played together. Her lip gloss was cherry flavored.

The bubble of contentment was ruptured when she pinned him roughly to the bed and clamped down on his mouth with her own open discerningly wide. Her tongue forced his own to his lower jaw as something that wasn't her tongue brushed his lips. Gaz's mouth muffled his scream when two sharp, small claws embedded themselves in his gums and used them as leverage to thrust the thing to which they were attached into his mouth. Once set lose inside, the thing went into a frenzy; lacerating his mouth with multiple claws that hadn't been able to reach him before and pressing forward into his throat, blocking his windpipe.

Gaz released his mouth, but retained her grip on his body. He struggled in vain as she smiled down at him, seemingly oblivious to his plight. "I just know you're going to love your gift, Squee. It's so much better when you're part of the collective."

Todd continued to scream as consciousness slowly returned to him, but the scream was once again muffled. When his sleep induced paralysis lifted, he tore the offending object from his face: a pillow. He caught his breath as his bedroom light entered his retinas, making him see colorful dots on the ceiling. He laughed softly to himself in an attempt to affirm normality. It had been a dream. A horribly mortifying, sickeningly cliché dream, but a dream all the same.

A dream that was all Johnny's fault. He had, cautiously, paid a visit to his house after work in order to obtain the signed comics he had promised Gaz earlier that night. He had finally been allowed to leave, with the comics in tow, after an hour and a half of being forced to eat "Sketti-Os" and listen to stories of Johnny's latest encounters of the social, and therefore bloody, kind.

Okay, so he hadn't been physically forced, but it was Johnny, so maybe "unintentionally intimidated" would be a better description. Along the way he had been unintentionally intimidated into admitting that he wanted the signed copies for the "scary, purple-haired fan-girl" from the mall, leading Johnny to conclude that he had a crush on her. After crashing into what seemed to have been a brick wall of a plainly disturbing conclusion, Johnny had proceeded to to give Todd exactly what he needed: dating advice from Mr. "immortalize the moment". The only thing that could possibly top that would be parenting advice from the boarders.

He let out an exasperated sigh. Sitting up, Todd glanced out his window to see that the sun had yet to rise. The time on his cell phone read 6 AM. It was too late for more sleep, but too early to get ready for skool. With a shrug, he hauled himself from the bed and prepared to do his art homework. It wasn't due until the end of next week, but if his recent experiences were any indication, he could use all the head-start he could get.

He set up an easel and canvas between his bed and bookcase, facing the door. It was always important to make sure you're facing doors or windows. He gave the window behind him another glance, this one paranoid, but decided that Johnny had been appeased for the night. Giving his room a quick once over, he figured that his creepy old teddy bear would have to do for a still-life. He placed Shmee in a sitting position on the foot of his bed before hastily mixing some cheap, store-bought paint.

He could feel himself enter an almost hypnotic calm as he painted the tattered thing that had once been his best friend. Time seemed to slip away like bloody water down a drain as the bear slowly appeared on the canvas, looking even more eerie than in real life. Its hollow, white eyes were more piercing. Its one-toothed grin was more sadistically ecstatic. As Todd was about to add a shadowy outline that resembled a dark aura around the bear, he was interrupted.

His bedroom door was slammed open so hard that when it hit, the knob left a small hole in the drywall. His dad stumbled in, groggy and irritated. He was dressed for work, and in the process of putting the final touches on his tie.

"When I went to bed last night, this light was on. Every time I got up to pee or get a drink, this light was on. This fucking light is _still on_! Did you even sleep last night? What the hell is this?" He gestured to the canvas, then broke his scowl for a moment to search his pockets for his morning nicotine fix.

"Can't you see I'm trying to express my teenage angst through art? And didn't I ask you not to smoke it my room?" Todd groaned internally. He tried his best to ignore his parents. He really did. So why did this man always have to confront him about such trivial matters? It wasn't as if the light being on affected him, or he actually cared if Todd stayed up all night.

"You're not going to become an art fag now, are you? That's all that I need." He finally retrieved a pack of Cancer Lites from his pocket before placing one in his mouth and beginning the search for his lighter. "And let me tell you something, _dependent_. This is _my_ house. _I_ pay the bills here, so all these rooms are _mine_. You're just some useless little brat who has brought me and your poor mother nothing but trouble since the cursed day that you were born. So in _my_ house, I'll smoke where I damn well please. You got that?"

Todd could feel his metaphorical thermometer rising. It wasn't so much the words, which he had heard thousands of times as a child, but the tone that annoyed him. That, and that he was still standing there, trying to pick a fight or assert some type of make-believe dominance. The cigarette that he was now in the process of lighting wasn't doing anything to brighten the Todd's mood either. In his peripheral vision he spotted his paint sealer, the chemical equivalent of hairspray, sitting innocently on his bookshelf.

"Sure." As he picked the sealer up, he couldn't help the ironic smile. His dad missed it as he was busy trying to get his nearly empty lighter to work. As he bowed his head toward the lighter and finally managed to produce a flame, Todd sprayed a thick and heavy layer of flammable fluid directly on the cigarette, and consequently the flame and his face. All three ignited in a mini burst of fiery doom. His father dropped both items before running around the room and screaming hysterically. He soon ran into a wall, fell down and continued screaming hysterically.

Todd casually dumped the cup of water he had been using to clean his brush on the still burning cigarette and calmly resumed painting. "That's much better."

As his father finally regained enough common sense to pat out the flames on his head and run from the room, probably to a nearby sink, Todd looked back to Shmee for more inspiration. A icy spike of terror ran through his veins. The bear looked even creepier than his painting. It was as if it was soaking itself in all the negative energy in the room and becoming maddeningly drunk on it. He suddenly felt an instinctive impulse to put Shmee in a blender and watch his fake coat be shredded until there was nothing left but fluffy cotton bear guts. The thought made his stomach flop. Even if it was just a toy, Shmee had been the closest thing he had to a family for a long time.

"_Tsk. Tsk. Tsk._"

The boy's head automatically turned to the door, expecting his dad to commence with round two. Nothing. He looked to the window. Nothing. This was starting to get a little too familiar.

"_Temper, temper, little Todd. You don't want to end up like the scary neighbor man, now do you? Feel like trading in that paint for blood yet?_"

He slowly looked back to the bear before forcing himself to scan the rest of the room. "Who's there?"

"_You need me, Todd. You need me to soak up all the hate and fear so it won't stay in you._"

The fear was building, and this time it was a hot, fiery fear, the kind he used to feel late at night whenever he would imagine that there was a bogeyman in his room. He would hide under the blankets and rationalize it away, slowly fighting back the fear. He would take several quick peeks out from under them to find nothing there. And then, when he finally worked up the courage to look under the bed, he would find it there: crouching in the darkness, rocking back and forth with hunger and insanity. Then the heat would peak. It would set his brain on fire, freezing his reactions as solid as ice. He would be trapped there, and it would slowly turn to look at him, smiling ludicrously with too many sharp teeth.

The exact same feeling was upon him as he turned, once again, back to the bear. He stared at the unmoving form, building courage. The surreal heat coursed through his body in waves. He swallowed a hard lump in his throat before asking in a shaky voice. "Sh-Shmeee?"

The bear's smile seemed grow even wider as his face tilted slightly to look at his boy. "_So you do remember. I was starting to think you had forgotten your old friend, Shmee._"

Todd said nothing, but he could feel his head slowly shaking back and forth. He was unsure if he was affirming that he hadn't forgotten, or denying what was before him. Maybe both. "You're n-not real."

"_I assure you, I am quite real, my boy. Just as real as your need for me._"

Todd stared, wide-eyed in horror. He was slowly, and involuntarily, backing up, but there was only a wall behind him. So consumed with fear was he, that he didn't notice himself stepping on the glass he had left on the floor until it was too late. There was a shattering sound as his foot came down too far and too fast behind him and he slipped. He fell backwards, into the bookcase, knocking the paint and other random objects down upon himself. He hit the floor, cutting his leg on the glass, staining his clothes and banging his head on the corner of the shelf.

The next thing he knew, his dad was back, having treated and wrapped his burnt head, screaming insults and threats and asserting his authority. Apparently this was his "last final warning", just like the last three times he had heard it that week. Somehow, he managed to look somewhat appropriately affected, probably due to the glass stabbing him in the leg and the throb of his head, and then his dad left for work.

Todd raised his leg to pull out the glass shard before looking up at Shmee, who was still sitting on the edge of his bed, but now looked less ... possessed. Even so, it probably wasn't a good idea to look too long. He rose as carefully as possible, avoiding the glass, and stuffed the bear beneath his covers. He showered quickly, because by the looks of things he was already running late.

Throwing open his closet, he chose a random pair of jeans. He felt like a shirt with a tag liner today. It was a toss up between "Stop the world, I wanna get off." and "I was born—wait, it gets worse." His dad had actually given him the second one as an expression of his hate, but he had agreed with the statement so much that he kept it anyway. Today seemed like a good day for it.

-------------------------------------SCENE SHIFT---------------------------------------

As he entered his Home Economics class, Dib vaguely wondered why Squee had not shown up for first period. When he had arrived home, as quietly as possible via his window, at the stroke of midnight, Gaz had mentioned something about Squee agreeing to get her signed copies of 'Happy Noodle Boy' before punching him in the gut for running off with Zim instead of taking her home. He felt a twinge of worry because, according to Squee, Johnny C. was more unhinged than the bathroom stalls in his old elementary skool. His thoughts were given a rough kick to the back of his mind as Zim made his presence known.

"Love-pig! Come and sit with Zim!" Other students broke into subdued gossip and giggles as Zim warped his mighty Irken hand around the Dib's wrist, which was covered with the sleeve of the new trench coat he had bought him the previous night. He dragged him to the back of the room, pushed him into the desk closest to the wall and then pushed the desk beside it as close as it would go. After effectively trapping the Dib, he took a seat himself in the desk beside him.

Chunk glared at them smugly from the front of the room. He wondered if Purple-hair had told Dib about their upcoming date. He really had no particular interest in the girl, not that she was bad looking, but going out with Dib's sister seemed like a small form of revenge in itself. If he was lucky he might even get laid. Getting laid was always good, but getting laid my the enemy's little sister was even better. It was almost as good as getting laid by his boyfriend. He cringed. That sounded _so_ gay. Suddenly he wasn't as interested in Zim as before, but he still had to get him. It was really the principle of the matter. No one took what he had claimed as his own.

Dib sent Chunk a quick, threatening glare before turning his attention to his pretend 'love-pig'. They had yet to converse today because Miss Bitters had been acting very strangely first period, and they figured it was best to draw as little attention to themselves as possible. He leaned close to Zim and whispered were his ear should be. "I think she knows. Miss Bitters, I mean."

Zim turned to face him, also drawing close, but talking somewhat louder. "Nonsense. She has no prof. None! Stop being so paranoid."

Actually, she had a fried hard drive in her house's computer. Zim had shot a nearby power line with a laser on the way out, which could account for the hard drive, but there was still nothing to account for the power cord. It had been slightly overcast that day, but there had been no storms. Dib was about to argue that the situation must have been just a little suspicious when Ms. Whatever entered the room carrying a box and several plastic bags filled with Edgar Casey knew what. It was then that he remembered that today was sexual education day, and for some reason felt distinctly nervous.

"Mornin' guys! We're just gonna watch a little video to make sure we all know the basics first."

Dib watched in shock as Zim took a notepad from his pak, jotting down what might have been notes on the DVD program on human sexual development that Ms. Whatever had just started at the front of the room. He desperately hoped that the Invader wasn't looking for a way to exploit human sexuality in his next Earth-conquering attempt. Before he could stop it, his mind had bombarded him with a multiplicity of ill-contrived and outrageous schemes of a sexual nature. There was no way he was going through the embarrassment of foiling or ranting about such a plan! He glared at Zim.

Zim glared back. This was all the Dib-worm's fault! He had been the one to insist that they take this class instead of something useful in exchange for his taking Driver's Ed with Zim and promising to let him take the drivers test in his car so that he could carry on his ingenious disguise. He should be honored to be privy to the mighty Zim's piloting skills! He shoved his notepad in front of him.

_This is DISGUSTING! I can't believe you caused my superior self to be subjected to such filth!_

_Did you read the report I sent you last night?_

_-Your future slave master_

Dib scowled at Zim, while secretly rejoicing that he hadn't been constructing a new and terribly embarrassing plan, and scribbled a reply.

_Yeah, well, you're the one who was all for learning about it yesterday. I didn't know this was going to happen when I suggested this class, alright?_

_Yes, I read it. Thanks for compiling and translating it._

_Why did you sign a note on your own notepad, that you just handed me?_

Dib slid the notepad back onto Zim's desk while studying the wall. Writing the "thanks" had hurt his pride a small bit, but it would have taken him weeks to decipher all the information the alien had extracted from his lap top, let alone find the more important parts. Apparently, Miss Bitters was a member of the Iorkian race, a parent species to both Irkens and Vortians. According to Zim, they were a commercial race, with firms in many areas, researching and carrying out economic contracts with other races. Bitters' records had indicated that she was on Earth to study and document human psychological development in general and conformity verses deviance specifically. Special emphasis was given to individuals with extrasensory perceptions.

Before writing his reply, Zim gave the Dib's answer a sideways smile. Finally, he was learning to appreciate the marvelous perfection that was him, Zim!

_You're welcome, Dib-monkey. So, what do you think?_

_I signed the note, just as a little reminder of the glorious doom that will soon befall humanity ... and you specifically. I think I'll get you a collar that proclaims you to be my property when the time comes. Maybe GIR will walk you around the palace on a leach. I hope you like tacos._

_-Lord of All Humans_

Dib was torn between hitting Zim over the head with the notepad and breaking down in laughter. Taking a deep breath, he resolved to do neither.

_The report said that Bitters is being commissioned by a race called the Veelob, right? Why would they be interested in human psychology?_

_I'm not going to be your slave, Space-boy. And I'm definitely not wearing anything that says I'm your property. _

Zim forced back an ironic smile, so as not to reveal something the Dib would probably never know, before answering the question.

_Remember the Meecrob from that time I got you back for throwing the muffin (WHY did everyone laugh when I said that yesterday?) at my head? They are generally peaceful, energy-based life-forms. The Veelobs are a dissenting fraction that have separated from the main group. Antiphasic lifeforms, such as these beings, feed on emotional energy. The Veelobs believe that negative energy, such as that based on fear, is more viable, stronger, because it is more primal._

_You shall see, Dib! Oh, the seeing you shall do! And Zim is being kind with the collar offer. If you refuse to wear it, I could always just brand it into your weak human flesh._

_-Supreme Overlord of Earth_

Dib had the urge to bite his nails in worry, but since he was so paranoid they were already mere nubs. It certainly didn't sound like the Veelobs had very good intentions for the people of Earth.

_The Meecrob were the shoe aliens, right? The Veelob want to use humans as a food supply?!_

_Look at the screen right now. See that organ on the diagram of the human female? Muffin can be slang for that. You should really learn human slang, you know. A lot of the things you say to me are just wrong._

Zim rolled his eyes at the Dib's questions, but took his suggestion by looking to the screen. Interesting. Vaguely gross, but interesting. It wasn't all that different from Irken reproductive organs, though there were vital differences in the processes that made Irken organs quite superior, of course. Despite the superiority of Irken organs, they were very rarely used for actual reproduction anymore.

_Yes, yes. Shoe aliens. And yes, the Veelob probably hired Bitters to help find out if humans would make a good host species. Though, they obviously don't want to eat you filthy pig-smellies. EWW! They just want to enslave your race so they can control you emotionally and feed off the negative energy._

_What does that organ have in common with a muffin? You humans are so illogical._

_The things Zim says to you are wrong? Wrong ... or right?_

_-Ruler of Mankind_

Dib bit his lower lip as his fears were confirmed. How sad was it that he dealt with this type of thing often enough to take it as a matter of coarse? Anyone else would be on the verge of some sort of breakdown, if they ever opened their eyes enough to look past the "somebody else's problem field" that their minds seemed to generate to see the truth.

He was pulled from his bitterly redundant thoughts as he read the remainder of Zim's note. The last sentence was a perfect example of what he had just told him. It was just _wrong_! Zim was so clueless. Or was he? His mind once again replayed the old argument, in which Zim had claimed that his denouncement of Tak had "nothing to do with jelly" when Dib had accused him of being jealous. Could it be that Dib had actually been the clueless one then? What about now?

Zim raised a brow ridge at Dib, who was once again tinted pink. He was just sitting there, holding a pen above the notebook, staring at the words. "Something wrong, Dib?"

Dib cringed when the sound of Zim's smug voice drew the attention of Ms. Whatever, who paused the DVD, which appeared to be in the process of explaining sexual intercourse.

"Zim. Dib. I realize that this bit may be out of the realm of your interests, but I'm going to have to ask you to remain quiet so that the other, normal, students can learn what they need to know. We'll be talking about homosexual practices later."

Snickers could be heard all around them, and Dib responded by growing even redder. The pen finally started to move as he wrote in large letters.

_Now it is! And what did you mean by that?_

Taking one short look at the paper, Zim shot straight into his usual rebuttal. "Nonsense." He directed the first word at Dib before turning to the teacher. "We are normal!" His outburst caused a few students to laugh while a few others nodded in agreement. Most of the class, however, ignored him and his all too common proclamation. Ms. Whatever restarted the video. Dib was still looking at him expectantly, but he turned his attention to the sex-ed program instead, happily leaving the Dib to torture himself with the possible meanings of his written words.

-------------------------------------SCENE SHIFT---------------------------------------

Gaz huffed in boredom as she stared dully at her art teacher, Mrs. Joy Eliot. She was everything that her name and husband indicated her to be: a happy, overenthusiastic teacher with a honey sweet disposition and hair to match. In addition, she was a Neo-hippie who liked creating a "calming and artistic atmosphere" by playing upbeat music and burning herb mixtures that prominently featured marijuana and mugwort. Naturally, she annoyed Gaz to no end.

All attention, including her own, was drawn from the centered, but peppy teacher when the door opened and Todd walked in awkwardly.

"Sorry I'm late. I kind of missed the bus."

Mrs. Joy smiled indulgently. "That's no problem, Squee. I understand. You have to live life in the _now_ instead of constantly trying to keep up with schedules and time. Otherwise, life will pass you by while you're busy making plans."

Mrs. Joy, or just Joy as she liked to be called, never marked anyone late unless they were caught purposefully skipping. She turned back to the class at large. "You are all free to work on your portfolios now. If you need help, feel free to ask." With that, she made her way to her desk and lit the customary incense before sitting on said desk and picking notes on her guitar.

Todd headed straight for Gaz's desk, where he deposited several signed 'Happy Noodle Boy' comics.

Gaz gave him a wide-eyed, impressed look. "Wow. That was really fast. Thanks a lot, Squee. I hope you didn't have to go to too much trouble to get them. How far does Johnny live from your house? Did you have to walk far?"

Suddenly, Todd found himself very nervous. She was being unusually nice, and it reminded him of last nights dream, which was both scary and embarrassing. He stammered a quick reply in hopes of avoiding her for the time being. "Umm, you're welcome. It wasn't much trouble. Well, I better go work on one of my projects." He turned around and fled to a desk near the front before she could say anything more.

As she thumbed through the comics that she had never had any intention of giving to Chunk, Gaz growled lowly to herself. Why was he being so reclusive today? Did he know what she was up to? Probably not. Maybe something about her transformation freaked him out. Hell, it freaked her out too, but he was just going to have to deal with it because she was going to get what she wanted. This decided, she rose from her desk and walked to the front of the room to pull up a chair at Squee's desk. Several students watched her. People had been staring at her in shock all day. She ignored them.

"Hey, Squee. What are you doing?"

He looked up at her, trying to hide his emotions, though he was mentally cringing. They couldn't tell you weren't one of them if you showed no emotion, right? "Hey. Just a drawing. I really need to concentrate on it." He looked back down.

ARG! Being brushed aside was infuriating! Was this how Dib felt all the time? She felt a very small pinch of guilt for often being just one more person who brushed her brother aside, but quickly recovered. It wasn't her fault that he was so obsessive about the paranormal, or that he felt he had to talk about his freakish, little boyfriend constantly like some boy-crazy preteen. Back to the task at hand! "How was your night?"

No! Why did she have to ask about last night? Now he was blushing! He could feel it. Damn. Why couldn't he ever gain control of that? The D.H.M.I. had taught him to hide his feelings well, but embarrassment was apparently his weak spot ... especially in relation to romantic or sexual things, with which he had almost no experience. He kept his head down, hoping she wouldn't notice. "It was okay."

Gaz grunted. "You're being very cryptic. Did something happen?"

"No, not really. I went to Johnny's, and he made me eat spaghettios." He figured that telling her about the stories Johnny liked to tell him would only reinforce her interest in paying him a visit, which was kind of messed up.

That sounded suspiciously bland. From what she knew, almost nothing that happened to Squee was that bland. She was about to pry further when Principal Eliot entered the room to pay a visit to his newly wedded wife. Great. Now there were two of them. Together. And ... in love. She cringed visibly.

Todd watched with interest as Mr. Eliot greeted Joy with a happy embrace, and she gave his cheek a quick peck. He had never really known a happily married couple. Not unless one counted the Diablos, and he didn't think they quite made the cut, not that he had any intentions of telling Pepito this. But, come on, what kind of husband doesn't tell his wife that he is Satan for like eight years? Never mind how she couldn't tell to begin with. Brian's wife had died long ago, and his own parents were anything but happy with their situation. His father was an irritable, emotionally abusive workaholic, and his mother was drugged out of her mind twenty-four-seven. Supposedly, this was all his fault somehow, but they never seemed to elaborate on the reason.

Usually, remembering this made Todd a little angry or even depressed, but he was surprised to feel happy and relaxed. A little too happy and relaxed, considering the lack of motivation to be so. He could feel his heart rate speeding up as well. He glanced around the room, briefly confused and worried that maybe he was in love with Dib's scary little sister, until his eyes wondered back to the teacher's desk and the burning incense. He was relieved to conclude that he was probably just high. It was several minutes before the gravity of this conclusion occurred to him, because apparently his thought processes had slowed a bit. _High_? He was _high_ at _skool_! That couldn't be good.

His attention was soon absorbed by Mr. Eliot and Joy, who may or may not have been high as well ... it was always hard to tell with them, breaking into song, seemingly out of nowhere. Joy was playing whatever old song they were singing on her acoustic guitar as they took turns singing lyrics at one another like love-struck teenagers. He felt a tap on his right shoulder, and turned to see Gaz. Her smile was too big and too genuine. She had to be high as well.

"Dance with me. Now." Even through the giddy daze, she was pleased to know that she still managed to sounded commanding. The lightheaded feeling caused by the incense was making her think that dancing might be a good plan, especially considering the obvious high that Todd was experiencing.

"Huh? Dance?" he asked groggily. Surely he had heard that wrong.

"Now." Rising from her chair, Gaz grabbed the collar of his shirt, jerking him to his feet as well. She pulled him into the open area in the room reserved for special projects, gripping his hands and swinging drunkenly back and forth.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice was screaming that this was a bad idea that could lead to nothing but pain for him, but this didn't bother him like it should have. There was also the fact that escaping the dance would inevitably end in pain as well simply because that's what Gaz appeared to want at the moment ... for some reason. Shrugging in defeat, he held her hands and swayed to the uncoordinated rhythm she had set. In response to this, his head swam, making him feel even more dizzy. Since the pain now seemed inevitable, he figured he might as well risk talking to her. "Hey, Gaz?"

"Yeah?"

He smirked. She sounded as groggy as he felt. "Why did you really change? Do you really want to be popular?"

"Not just popular. Normal. I want to be normal. That's really hard with my family, you know. But, I've always wondered what it's like." Wow. That was actually partly true. She had always wondered what it would be like to be normal, to have a normal family that cared about family stuff and spent time together, but by the time she was eleven ,she had excepted that such would never be the case. She hadn't meant to admit that, but at least she had not carelessly revealed her true purpose.

"But you're better then normal; you're abnormal," he said in an attempt at a reassuring voice.

"You really think so?" she asked almost sentimentally, with the hint of a real smile.

Todd smiled back. "I know so. Sometimes, I read through Brian's psychology books. I think ... according to the latest version of the DMS, you have antisocial personality disorder ... or ...you will be when you're eighteen."

He knew he had made a mistake when her relaxed expression turned into a scowl, and her grip on his hands was tightened to a painful degree. "I mean ... uh ... that was a joke ... kinda! Don't take it personally; most of the people I know fit one or more of the disorders in there. At least you haven't been legally branded with one."

"Psh. Whatever. So I'm a sociopath, and you're schizophrenic. What does that make Johnny?"

"Uh, I think the crazy neighbor man is lots of things ...."

"Perfect." That was good enough. It couldn't be that hard to find out which one of Squee's neighboring houses belonged to the serial killer.

"Perfect? What does that mean?"

Soon other students, mostly those who had been sitting near the front, and thus the incenses, joined them in dance. As Joy switched songs to one with a faster beat, the dance became faster and wilder. Gaz, neglecting to answer him, sent them spinning around, nearly crashing into other pairs and single dancers and laughing hard. Suddenly, there was a quick flash of light as a yearbook staff member snapped a picture of the make-shift dance, signing her eventual doom, if Gaz had anything to say ... or do about it.

As Todd exited his fourth period class for lunch he realized two things. One was that, although he, thankfully, was no longer high, he was very hungry. Another was that, in his stressful morning haste, he had forgotten to pack a lunch. He had enough money in the backpack he was currently stuffing into his locker to buy a skool lunch, but was that really worth the risk? Normally, his automatic answer would be a definite "no", but his stomach, which he had neglected to provide with breakfast as well, protested loudly. Sighing, he took the money and headed to the cafeteria, where he would hopefully not meet a zombified demise.

After standing reluctantly in the skool lunch line for about five minutes, he finally reached the buffet line, where students were served by mostly irritable workers who couldn't find a better job, probably due to age discrimination. He looked skeptically at the main course: a green, gelatinous blob molded into a large metal pan. "What is it?" he asked the lunchroom lady behind the counter.

"It is ... ummm ... it is ... " She examined the substance for a long, hard minute before looking back up and proclaiming with a definitive air, "It is green."

"Oh, is that anything like the 'red' at the D.H.M.I.?" he asked, less confused, but not pleasantly so. He glanced around nervously at his fellow students as snickering permeated his general vicinity at his statement. As he did so, the lunch room lady plopped a glob of 'green' on his tray and handed it over the shield. When his attention reverted back to his tray, he noticed that the 'green' seemed to be eating all the other 'food', changing color and growing. "Hey, I didn't say I wanted any!" he declared.

"Next!"

He reluctantly took his tray to the check-out counter, trying not to touch the blob. Digging in his pocket for cash, he pulled out a five dollar bill, some ones and ... cotton stuffing. "How did _that_ get there?"

"Hey, hurry it up. Some of us want to eat the food before it eats us!" an impatient female voice yelled from somewhere down the line.

Todd handed the cashier the five, returned the change and stuffing to his pocket and made his way through the cafeteria in the direction of the trash. On his way, he noticed that Zim was sitting beside Dib at the usual table. Zim usually sat a few tables over. Maybe this was part of their "pretend" relationship.

He noticed that Zim was wearing an extra pair of gloves and goggles, while poking his equally blobby lunch with a spork. Beside him, Dib was watching curiously as he fed it a carrot. It absorbed the carrot. He took a test tube from his pak and scooped some of the blob in before returning it to his back-pak-thingie.

"Yes!" he announced. "This ... 'green' will make a perfect component for my next evil plan!" He only got a few strange momentary glances from the student body, except for Todd and, of course, Dib, who leaned closer, apparently listening intently. Noticing the sparse attention, Zim quickly lowered his voice and his head, his vision once again centering on his lunch. He poked in again. It jiggled.

"Ohhhhhh! So jiggly ...jiggly and full of juice!" He began cackling.

Todd was drawn out of his distraction with Zim's antics when a large senior behind him shouted, "Hey, kid, move!" rather rudely before giving him a rough shove, which sent him stumbling forward. As he felt himself about to fall, he threw his tray up and behind his head in a desperate attempt at self-preservation. If he had to fall, he definitely didn't want it to be head-first into the 'green'. He heard a blood-curdling scream that was not his own as his body hit the linoleum, quickly rolling over onto his back and propping himself up on elbows to see its source.

The next scream did belong to him. His lunch had apparently landed in the face of the rude senior who was now being absorbed, much as Zim's carrot had been. Todd gaped in terror, idly wondering if the green would break down bone, until his mind finally told his body to move. He kicked his feet until he was far enough away to stand up, but as he did the now quite large blob lunged at him. Without thinking, he quickly dropped back to the floor. The blob flew over him and landed on a cheerleader, who emitted a particularly loud and surprisingly peepy screech. After noticing that the senior was completely gone, and that the thing apparently did dissolve bone, Todd wasted no time in fleeing the immediate scene. He scurried across the cafeteria to the exit, where he remained, staring at the horror.

Meanwhile, Gaz was already standing outside the doorway a little behind Squee as her class had just been on its way to lunch. Her Game Slave was held in one hand limply at her side as she watched the mayhem, entranced with a sadistic smile and wide eyes. As she watched the screams multiplied, and students began running in every direction, with only the smartest choosing the direction of one of the two exits ... natural selection at its finest.

Of course, there are different types of intelligence. Just because one is good at say, nonlinear geometry, or quantum mechanics or was one of the only people on Earth to recognize a stupidly disguised alien on sight did not necessarily mean that one had street smarts or that one's curiosity did not override them. A good example of this point was that Dib was currently only five feet away from the even larger blob and taking snap shots while talking out loud to himself. It would have frustrated her to no end had it not been so intriguing.

"Is this another one if Zim's plans, or some other form of paranormal activity or just a _really_ bad lunch? I wonder if it's a living organism, or just an elaborate chemical reaction ... or maybe some kind of nanotechnolo-Ahhh!" DIb screamed as the blob lurched through the air toward him. He fell to the floor and closed his eyes tightly in fear, but opened them when he heard the sound of a laser blaster, followed by the exploding plop of the blob in midair.

He turned around to see Zim's spider leg taking his blaster back into his pak. "Zim, you ... you ... saved me," he said in shock, unable to keep a hint of appreciation out of his voice.

The relief on Zim's face rapidly changed into a mask of superior indignation. "I didn't do it because I like you, Dib!" he announced a little too defensively. "I did it because I, The Great ZIM, will be the one to destroy you!"

Zim looked around, hearing more and louder screaming. It appeared that his blast had blown the blob into hundreds of pieces, all of which had become smaller blobs that landed on various students who were now being absorbed. "Eh? I mean, yes! This was my plan all along! Cower p-it-if-ful huymuns at the amazing blobby-doom-plan of the Mighty Zim!"

Dib rolled his eyes at Zim's obvious lies. "I think we should get out of here," he said, jumping to his feet. He grabbed a gloved arm and ran to the exit, dragging the protesting Zim along.

Gaz frowned when Dib and Zim ran by, annoying her with their voices and pulling her out of her euphoric stupor. She grabbed the back of Squee's shirt and slowly pulled him into the hallway as the fire alarm began to blare. Water pored from the ceiling, soaking everyone. Gaz huffed in irritation as her purple hair lay limp against her head and Zim's screaming could still be heard echoing down the hall.

"Unhand _Zim_, filthy dirt-child! Do not soil the superior Zim-hand of Zim with your disgusting Eartheniod germs!"

Todd began to come to his senses as the biohazard lock-down was initiated from somewhere within the skool. Sliding metal doors slammed shut, sealing classrooms, some with students still inside, as the skool was evacuated. After a jerk, a few shoves and an unnecessarily hard slap to the face from Gaz, he finally joined her and the other students in making a rather swift exit from the skool.

About a hundred shocked teens lingered in the skool yard, while many more chose to get as far away as possible, leaving by car or on foot. Emergency task force officers in metallic-black, armored suits prepared to retrieve remaining students from various sealed rooms before they could unleash deadly gases into the skool.

"What _was_ that stuff?" Dib relinquished his grip on the drenched Zim and slumped against his vehicle.

"Some sort of disgusting human filth! Thank Irk I wore paste today!" Zim huffed and shook water from his arms dramatically.

"Dib! Home, now!" Gaz ordered as she joined the two with a distraught Squee trailing behind her. "Wet is not a good look for me." For the first time since she had been able to dress herself, Gaz was wearing pastels in public. She and Squee were even more wet than the other two, so the effect on the clothes was currently making her more popular than she had intended.

"Fine. We're taking Zim home first since his 'superior race' has issues with water. Squee, you want a ride too?" Dib pressed a button on his key-ring remote to unlock the rover.

"Uhg. Whatever. Just hurry. I think I need a new game slave." She paused a moment to glare at Squee. "But, that _was_ really cool, so I'll spare you a horrible fate this time."

As the Dib-sister pushed the squeaky kid into the back seat, following after him, Zim hopped into the front passenger seat. He sent a glare of his own at the Dib. "You might want to show a bit of respect to the Irken race, Dib-thing, since we will be your overloads soon enough. And we do not have issues with water. We have issues with filthy, polluted Earth water. Now, to my base! Zim commands you!" He glanced into the back seat as if just remembering that he and the Dib were not alone. Gaz was apathetically trying to repair her gaming unit, while Sqeak was staring blankly out the window. Just in case, he figured, he might as well add it. "And Zim is normal!"

Dib rolled his eyes, and started the engine. "Whatever, Space-boy."

-------------------------------------SCENE SHIFT---------------------------------------

Water squished from his tennis shoes onto the living room carpet as Todd closed the door behind himself. He kicked them off before heading for the stairs.

"Who are you?" his mother asked in a drug-induced daze from the couch.

"No one." His voice was almost monotone.

"Then why are you in my house?"

"I'm not."

"Oh." A look of trepidation consumed her face, and she reached for an unmarked bottle on the coffee table. "Maybe I should take some more pills then."

"Why not? Having a kid has already ruined your life, so who needs brain cells."

He turned away before she could agree with him, heading up the stairs and into his room. Removing the now damp change and stuffing from his pocket, he tossed it onto his desk before discarding his wet clothes in a green, plastic laundry basket. Quickly patting himself dry with the towel used for that morning's shower, he casually flung open his closet door, picking random darkly colored items. After dressing he flopped down on his bed, messaging his temple in hopes of relieving some stress. If he was still eight, he would have tried to drown the terrors of that day in Tang.

"_You're getting rather rash, Todd. First this morning with your father, and now worrying that pathetic creature down stairs into an overdose. You best tread lightly, my boy. 'To lose one parent may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness.'"_

"Shut up, Shmee." Todd could feel himself breathing faster, but he fought the fear back, due partly to shocked complacency from the attack of the 'green' and partly to anger. "I know it was you. I found your stuffing in my pocket. And how do you know Oscar Wilde?"

"_I know everything you know, Todd. Everything. And yes, I accompanied you to skool. It is my job to protect you from trauma, and you are so very good at attracting it. I have noticed, however, that you are much more desensitized to traumatic events now. You've been spending too much time with the scary neighbor man. I want you to stay away from him as much as possible." _

"So, you're saying that you didn't have anything to do with the cafeteria food absorbing people? Because I seem to run into a lot more 'traumatic events' whenever you're around."

"_Maybe I just know when you need me." _

"Or maybe you like to cause unspeakably horrible things to happen to me and anyone who happens to be near me at the time." He sighed. "Or maybe I really am psychotic."

"_You're not psychotic. You're just different. Luckily, you have me."_

"I have to go." Todd rose swiftly from the bed, checking his new pockets for any stowaway stuffing before stepping into a pair of boots that Nny had given him for his birthday, over the summer.

"_Where are you going?"_

"I thought you knew _everything_ I know. I'm going to the mall early to buy some more art supplies."

"_Take me with you."_

"No. I've had about enough of you tagging along. Stay here and out of trouble. I mean it, Shmee."

"_Of course, my boy. Of course. Anything you say." _

Todd headed for the door in silence. The bear's reply had been patronizing and almost sarcastic, but he didn't know what to do about it, and spending more time alone with it didn't seem to be doing his psyche any good.

-------------------------------------SCENE SHIFT---------------------------------------

"Who's there! Did the _dog_ send you! Did it?"

Todd watched timidly as a head full of messy, blue hair with large brown eyes peaked through the crack of the slightly opened door of house number seven hundred and seventy-seven before taking slow and deliberate steps from his semi-hiding place at the right of the door, against the wall, coming into Johnny C.'s line of vision. "Hi, Nny. The, uh, dog didn't send me. I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"Squee! Hi! I wasn't expecting you back so soon. I was just 'entertaining' some visitors, but I'm sure they wouldn't mind waiting a little longer."

"Ummm. I can come back another time." Forcing a nervous smile, he stiffly turned to go.

"Wait! Why don't we go for a Brain-freezy?"

"Squee! Uh ... okay."

Walking on the opposite end of the sidewalk from Johnny, Todd did his best to steer them clear of any other pedestrians that might set off the other's 'asshole detector', which was potentially all of them, depending on his mood.

"So," Johnny paused to check the sun, "why aren't you in skool right now?"

"That's part of what I wanted to talk to you about. You know how I used to have a teddy-bear that talked to me?"

"Yesss. That linty bastard was full of lies! Lies!" His voice rose dramatically before dropping back to a normal tone at the next sentence. "What about it?"

"Well, Brian gave me some of my old stuff that the D.H.M.I. had been holding a couple of days ago. Shmee was with it, and ever since then really ... unpleasant things have been happening to me ... well more to other people who bother me. But the nightmares have gotten more vivid, and Shmee is talking to me again."

"I see."

"I just thought that since you said you got rid of some figments a while back, you might be able to give me some advice. I think that Shmee is associated with the, uh ... bad stuff somehow."

"Would you care to elaborate on this 'bad stuff'?"

"No. No, I wouldn't care for that very much at all."

"Oh. Okay then." Johnny was quiet for a moment, thinking. "Hmmm. You know, I don't think the method I used to get ride of the Dough Boys would work for you ... unless ... no. That can't be."

"What?"

"It's nothing! Nothing at all!" Surely, they hadn't decided to make his innocent, scared, little neighbor a waste lock!

A small bell chimed as they entered the Twenty-Four-Seven, disturbing a short man in a ski mask, who was in the process of stuffing all the money in the register into a black, plastic bag. There was splattered blood on his shirt and the check-out counter. Johnny knew that could only mean one thing. "Damn it! I just wanted a brain-freezy! _Why_ must you create for me _moral delmilas_? I hate them! It seems like this place gets robbed every other fuckin' week!"

Ski mask guy pointed a gun at them, leaving him without the ability to continue stuffing the bag. "You, skinny, loud-mouthed freak! Come here and put the rest of the money in the bag, or I'll blow your brains all over the place!"

"Skinny freak? Skinny freak! _You_ dare ridicule _me_?" Johnny quickly strode over to the man. He could now see the clerk lying behind the counter in a pool of her own blood. She had actually been nice, for a human. She had always made sure that the Brain-freezy machine was on all night on the nights she worked. "Your pettiness _sickens_ me!"

Ski-guy cocked the pistil, pointing straight at Johnny's head. "What are you gonna do about, you _skinny_, bulimic Weirdo?"

Of course, he _would_ use a gun. Johnny's eyes narrowed. "You would make a lovely corpse."

Todd sighed silently, still standing near the door. He checked his pockets for bear stuffing, finding none. Maybe it was just something about Todd himself. Maybe the universe just hated him. Then again, he _was_ with Johnny, so maybe it was only coincidence. If his cell phone wasn't trapped in his locker at skool, he could call the police, but he doubted he could stop Johnny from killing the guy at this point anyway.

"Hey, can I just wait outside? My shrink says I should try to limit my exposure to grizzly murders."

"Sure, go ahead, Squee. What flavor of brain-freezy do you want?"

"Wait! What? No, you can't wait outside! Gawd! What do you think this is, a-Gahhhacckk!"

Blood gushed from Ski-guy's neck as Nny retracted a long, curved knife from the wound, only to make another and another in various parts of the man's body.

"Cherry doom." Grabbing a magazine from a near-by rack, Todd left the store, taking a seat on the bench out front. He usually tried to spare others Johnny's wrath, but that guy probably deserved it anyway. He frowned. Maybe Shmee was right about him being desensitized. He flipped through the pages of the Event Magazine, eventually settling on a article about a new drug promising neurogenesis of a strong enough magnitude to counteract the effects of eating cafeteria food in the public skool system. Yeah, right.

"Squeegee!"

"Ahh! Oh, sorry, Nny." He folded the magazine under an arm and stood.

Johnny smiled a huge, maniacal smile. It was so much fun to traumatize his neighbor. "Here's your brain-freezy. Do you think we should still pay for this stuff?"

"Thanks. I dunno. It's a chain store, so the money would just go to corporate anyway. And our hand prints are on the money. That's bad. Though, maybe we could mix it in with the money in the bag." He shrugged in noncommitment.

"Hummm. I think I'll leave some money. You taking that magazine?"

"Uh, it has my prints on it, so yeah."

Looking through the glass frame of the store door, Todd watched as the serial killer counted out exact change for the items they were taking. Johnny had very strange priorities.

"Okay, all set! Johnny said as he emerged. He took a long, refreshing, noisy sip of his freezy as they walked before remembering why they were in fact walking to begin with. "So, where were we? Oh, yes, the talking bear. I think the best advice I can give you on the matter is to feed it as less as possible. Figments thrive on attention. The more you give it, the _stronger_ it will become and the _weaker_ you will become. That's my experience anyway. Tell me, does the bear tell you what to do?"

"Uh, yeah. Sometimes. And he tells me things, at least some of them are true, but it's like he's planting thoughts in my mind to manipulate me." Looking down at the cracks in the sidewalk, Todd wondered why he never realized how strange it was for his imaginary friend to try to convince him to burn things ... and people when he was a child. He hadn't even mentioned that aspect of Shmee to Brian for months into the therapy sessions.

"You should never allow yourself to become a slave, even to the things you create. _Especially_ to the things you create, because there may come a time when you can no longer tell if they are still a part of you!"

"Yeah, that would be bad, huh?" He was so screwed.

-------------------------------------SCENE SHIFT---------------------------------------

Todd stood, shelving DVD cases at Rob's from a dolly almost mechanically. It was like his body was on autopilot. After today's events that would make sense. He had considered calling out of work, but staying at home with Shmee and his parents would have been even worse than pretending to be a normal, properly functioning part of society.

"Hey, Squee, come up here for a moment!"

Rob's voice reverberated from the front of the store, probably because he was too lazy to walk twenty or thirty feet to find an employee.

When he made it to the front, Todd saw his boss, a bald man wearing a shirt that read: 'You don't have to be mad to work here, but it helps', standing next to a middle-aged woman with a large nose and salt and pepper hair, who appeared to be quite angry. Great. This day just kept getting better and better. He briefly wondered if he had been a terrible person in a previous life as he approached. "Did you want something?"

"Yes, this woman says that an employee here matching your description rented a video to her mother."

"It was supposed to be 'The Overpasses of Madison Parish', but it was a _horrifying_ ... er ... horror movie called 'Quiet Mountain' instead! I hope you're happy. My mother had a minor heart attack because of you!" The woman's face was red with anger.

Rob attempted to intervene. "Mama, I'm going to have to ask you to maintain a respectful tone with my employee. Why don't I give you the number for our complaint line?" Said line would keep her tied up in red tape for weeks before finally getting her absolutely nowhere.

"How about the number for your lawyer instead?!"

"Umm, I'm sorry? Is she alright?" Todd asked with weary concern.

"Oh, you _will_ be sorry! Of course she's not alright! She is now afraid to check out videos, so I have to buy _every_ movie she wants to watch! Even the ones she only watches once! Do you have any idea how inconvenient that is for me? How much space all those videos take up in my apartment! Do you?"

"No, but couldn't you just donate the ones she doesn't like-"

"What's your name?" Cutting him off mid-sentence, she drew her face near to his name tag, nearly stabbing his chest with her nose. "_Squee_? What kind of name is that?"

"The kind you can't use in a lawsuit."

"What was that?"

"I said, it's the kind of name you get when your parents resent your existence." He managed a partly genuine, sad tone.

"Huh?" The woman's eyes softened ever so slightly in preparation to feel sympathy.

"Yes, my parents hate me so much that they call me "Squee". And they had me unfairly committed. And ... and now that I'm out, they make me wear a straight jacket that they had privately made, specifically to be painful, at night. I _never_ get any sleep, but I have to _work_ to pay for my food! So, when I'm here I'm not always completely coherent. I'm," fake sniff, "so sorry if I'm the one who mixed up the videos! Don't sue the store! Sue me! Sue _me_! Prison is too good for me! The hot meals, the showers, the _sleep_!-"

"The butt-sex.."

Todd's dramatic speech instantly died and he shot Letta, who was now standing in the entrance, a glare for making him break character. "Anyway, let me write down my name and address for you."

"No. No, young man, that won't be necessary after all. Just try to stay more focused in the future. Good luck with your parents." She turned and walked from the store, giving Letta an unsure look, as if the girl was loopier that Poop Loops, on her way.

"Wow. That went better than expected!" Rob announced. "Good job, Squee. Here, have a sticker." The man pulled a pad of shinny, little star stickers from his pocket. "How about a blue one?" He peeled a blue sticker from the pad, sticking it to his forehead before he could decline the offer. "There!"

"Shouldn't you fire me or something?" Todd stared at him dumbly, absentmindedly peeling the sticker from his head as Ms Bitters had said once that they caused cancer if left on the skin. "I almost killed a costumer."

"Fire you? Yes, you did, and I didn't even have to get you out of it! That really makes my day. Keep it up, and I'll give you a raise. Well, I have to go fill out some order forms." With that, the creepy owner retreated into his office.

Letta took a few steps closer to Todd. "Come on, you're taking a break." Grabbing his arm, she pulled him from the store and down the walkway. "I need dinner. How about we have some suck-monkeys and pretzels." It wasn't really a question, and she didn't think he would give an answer either way, so she continued to the nearest vendor a few stores down, ordering for them both.

"Your boss is completely crazy," she informed as she placed a suck-money in one of his hands and a pretzel in the other.

He nodded as the two began a slow stroll through the mall, headed nowhere in particular. "Yeah. I guess he is. I seem to attract that. Maybe it's that 'like attracts like' thing Vay was telling me about." Todd attempted to sound casual, but it was getting harder to role with the punches. Sometimes it seemed like the whole world was off kilter like this, but he knew that wasn't true. At least, it hadn't seemed true for most of the time he had been in the institution. Most, though definitely not all, of his infrequent outings with Brian and Letta had seemed normal enough. Was it him or the bear that attracted those things? He really wasn't sure at this point.

"Please, Squee. You're not _that_ kind of crazy, and you didn't mean to hurt that woman's mother. And don't go getting all religious on me. I think working with a Wiccan is affecting your brain."

Todd's grip tightened slightly on his suck-monkey, and he rolled his eyes at girl dismissiveness. She wouldn't be saying that if she knew about the kind of day he had just endured. He was slightly annoyed, as always, that she was so judgmental of anyone who so much as considered a religious notion, but he was in no mood to start an argument about it. So, he did the next best thing. "Is that jealousy I sense? Don't worry, sister; you will always be the Virgin Huntress to me."

"Eww! Todd, why do you have to remind me of that? It was _just_ a freaking kiss. And I was drunk. And Mindy broke up with me because of it. She thought I was bi! And why is that connected to the Mists of Avalon?"

"It was 'just' my _first_ freaking kiss! And it was from a drunken lesbian, who I think of as a sister. I think you deserve to be reminded sometimes, because I'm always going to remember. It reminds me of the Great Rite in The Mists of Avalon because of the incestuousness of it, and because I think you thought I was a girl, so you didn't even know who I was, but mostly just because I was reading it at the time. This particular reminder was brought to you by the campaign against religious discrimination. Plus, Wicca reminds me of the book too, so you kind of chose your own punishment with that one."

Letta signed in frustration. He was _so_ overreacting. "For the millionth time, I'm sorry I kissed you. But you _did_ look like a girl! You were wearing make-up and everything. You make a pretty cute girl, by the way."

"And whose fault was it that I was wearing make-up? I didn't put it on myself, and I seem to remember telling you and your friends that I didn't want to play dress-up at least ten times."

"Mine, alright. But you should be more assertive. And you know I wasn't discriminating against Wiccans. I think all religions are equally stupid. I get enough of that stuff from Dad. It's always Jesus this and Jesus that. I don't know why he can't understand that not everyone has a spiritual hard on for some old, Jewish, dead guy. I don't find the idea of getting on my knees for some zombie that appealing, and I'm certainly not going to ingest his bodily products so that I too can know the joys of being undead."

Near the end of her semi-rant, Todd felt his gag reflex convulse, making him choke on his suck-monkey. "Ack! Aaah!"

Letta gave his back a few hard smacks. "You okay?"

"I think I swallowed the straw. Did you _have_ to say it like that?"

"Like what, Squeegee?"

"You know, like The Passion of Jeffrey Dahmer."

"Ha! Yes. I did, actually. Did I ever tell you that one of my roommates freshman year was a Resurrectionist? Becoming undead was her dream. Jeffrey would have been all over that religion."

"Resurrectionists? Do I even want to know what they are?" he asked in exasperation.

"Probably not, but I'll tell you anyway. Their kind of a Christian fringe group. They believe that Jesus was the first zombie, that the people he was supposed to have resurrected actually became zombies and that he taught his disciples to raise the dead as well. They think that eating the body and blood of Christ, which has been passed down through the ages through every zombie, is the way to eternal life. Becoming a zombie makes you a living Saint. According to my old roommate, Amanda, they have some controlled means of making zombies, and members have to pass through many levels of initiation to be granted 'eternal life'. And, of course, the whole Christian belief about the dead rising from the grave at the last judgment kind of feeds into that too."

"That's sick." He looked down distrustfully at his half eaten pretzel. "And now I feel kind of sick. Thanks a lot, Letta. You always tell me the most disgusting things. I think only Nny is worse. At least he has the excuse of being insane." He chucked his remaining food into a passing trash can, heading back to Roc'in Rob's.

"Any time. At least you didn't have to live with one of them. You do look an unhealthy color, though. Maybe you should spend the night with me. I don't want you to have some kind of breakdown with your parents around." She sounded only slightly regretful.

"And why would that be? I thought you didn't think I was _that_ kind of crazy."

"I don't, but it can't be a good idea to have a psychotic episode around people you hate. Unlike my dad, I do believe you when you say you hate them. Heck, I hate them too, and their not even my parents."

"Thanks for believing me, I guess, but don't waste your energy hating them for me. I wish _I_ could stop hating them. I really do." The usual twin bells rung as the duo passed through the motion detector, entering Rob's.

"See, Squee, that proves your a good person. Those people tried their best to ruin your life, and you still don't want to hate them."

"I'm not a good person. I still _do_ hate them. And I want to stop because of the effect it has on me, not them. I don't want the karmic tie to them. And before you accuse me of being religious again, I just mean that hating them makes me attached to them. It gives them as big a chuck of my mental world as if I loved them, and that I don't want them to have. It also makes me unhappy. See? No mystical forces required."

"Hey, Squee! You left without telling anyone!" Vayowen lightly chastised from the check-out.

"Yeah. Sorry. I really needed a break."

"It's fine. Rob seems to think you deserve it as a reward. There was a call for you while you were out. That Johnny C. guy said to tell you that he needs to see you tonight. He said it was an emergency. Something to do with a bear, I think."

"A ... bear? Shit."

"What is it?!"

"Nothing. I have to go. Right now. Sorry." He turned to make a swift exit before either girl could question him further.

-------------------------------------SCENE SHIFT---------------------------------------

Todd sighed to himself as he made his way through Johnny's yard, careful to avoid walking on the lumps that were really shallow graves from which little, gray clothes moths flitted when he passed by. This had been a very stressful day, and to top it off he was going to end it by once again visiting Johnny, something that never really seemed to relieve his stress. The worst part was that at the moment he was missing something vital to paying the homicidal manic a visit: caution motivated by a will to live. In fact, he was currently feeling pretty reckless. He didn't even know how many people had died today for something that was probably his fault, maybe even his will somewhere deep down and hidden.

He approached the door callously and knocked three times nervously, but without appropriate apprehension. "Nny? It's me, Squee. I got your message. You home?"

Some scuffling was heard through the rickety, wooden door, followed by what sounded to Todd like a muffled "Come in". He slowly pushed the unlocked door open and walked in, abandoning his normal procedure of quickly stepping to the side of said door right as he would open it.

"Hello, Todd. I'm glad you could make it." The anorexic-looking man stood in the center of the sparse living room, leaning against an old, stained couch that appeared to have been stabbed quite a few times.

"You said it was important." Todd tried to keep any trace of annoyance from his voice. "Something to do with my bear?"

"Oh, yes, that old thing. Johnny took it while you were at work and burned it. Don't worry. He got every last piece of stuffing, so the bear is completely gone," the man said in a upbeat tone.

The hairs on the back of the Todd's neck stood on end at this. Since when did Johnny talk in third person? Or remember that his name was actually Todd?

"You look distressed, my boy. Surely you're not upset over a childhood toy. The body, I assure you, was quite insignificant in the long run." His thin, chapped, and broken lips formed a smile too big, even for Johnny's face; a familiar smile. A smile Todd had seen that very morning on his canvas.

"I no longer need it." He pushed himself off of the back of the couch to advance in a slow, but determined, motion on Todd.

"_Shmee_?" Panic-filled eyes darted from his advancer to the door and back as it swung closed and actually locked this time. He backed up anyway, feeling his hands ball into fists so that he was digging nails into the palms of his hands, hoping to wake up from yet another nightmare.

"Well done, Todd. You always were bight .. for a human. Still think I'm not real?"

Todd felt his back contact the door, and one hand shot back to open the it, but it wouldn't budge, which was preposterous considering how flimsy it was. It was as if some invisible pressure was holding it in place. "W-what did you do to Johnny?"

"Ohhh, nothing ..._much_. I'm just borrowing his body for a little while. I've always wondered what the human condition was like, not having a true physical body and all. And then your crazy neighbor was _kind enough_ to destroy my prison." Shmee paused in his speech as he reached the distraught Todd, who tried to bolt from his reach, only to be meet with Johnny's arms crashing down, into the door behind him, on both sides of his frame. "So I figure, the least I can do to repay his noble efforts is to show him some parts of the human condition that, even with a physical body, he seems to neglect."

The other's last sentence had his eyes widening even further in terror. Todd could deal with Shmee wanting to kill him, but killing was definitely not something that Johnny had neglected to do. Behind him, his hand worked desperately at the door knob without him telling it to do so, but still to no avail. "No."

Surprisingly, the vocalization seemed to come from the boy before him _and_ from deep within the body he had overshadowed. Johnny C. was fighting harder. Shmee smirked to himself. Apparently, the manic really _did_ have a problem with physical contact. Good. Let this be a lesson to him. Let it be a lesson to them both. He used Johnny's hand to twirl a strand of Todd's hair around a finger, taking pleasure in the fear that spiked through his being as he pressed himself hard against the door, as if hoping he would melt through it. The hand then traveled through his shaggy hair in a parody of affection before grabbing a handful, and jerking the his head back against the door.

Todd winced as his head hit the wood harder that it had hit the bookcase that morning. There was a painfully hot throbbing, making it impossible to tell if he was bleeding. When he felt the other's mouth crash into his own with violent force, he wished that he had passed out upon impact. Suddenly, having his first kiss with a drunken lesbian didn't seem so bad. He attempted to push Shmee away, but his upper arms were suddenly held in a vice grip against the door. His mouth was clapped shut, but he soon found that the same pressure that was holding the door was blocking his nasal passages. Though he felt his muscles tense up, and his lungs contract with the lack of oxygen, he tried frantically not to give in.

Shmee's insane smile returned against the other's mouth. Todd had always been strong willed, if only when pushed to the edge of terror like this. It was difficult fighting both him and Johnny at the same time, but this delicious fear was so very worth it. He quickly lowered one arm from Todd's to land a hard blow to his chest, making him release what little air was in his lungs and open his mouth to involuntarily take in a breath. In this instant, he slipped Johnny's tongue into Todd's mouth, once again cutting off his air supply. The fear seemed to crest as he pressed hard against the other, filling himself with pleasure and energy.

As his neglected lungs heaved without recourse, Todd's mind seemed to be running too fast to make out any individual thoughts, only feelings. The fear and violation seemed all consuming, like when his room and being had been devoured by the monstrous blood. In the moment he realized this, an invisible hand seemed to squeeze his heart.

Darkness crept over his vision, followed by brief flashes of red light. He could feel his mind slipping. He was going to lose consciousness soon, but something pointy was rubbing against his hip ... something too sharp to be what he had at first feared. His free hand reached out to wrap weak fingers around the cold metal hilt of one of Johnny's knives. Without enough thought to allow for hesitation, Todd pulled the knife from its holster on the belt, angled it upwards, and drove it forward, with all his remaining strength, into the other's chest, where he gave it a sharp twist.

Pain and shock coursed through his borrowed body as Shmee finally pulled it away from Todd, allowing him to breath, to observe the damage. The body was _leaking_. And it hurt! And inside, Johnny was _laughing_! This was not at all how he had planed his foray into the human condition to go. He felt the body start to weaken from blood loss as he looked back up at Todd with what he imagined was a hurt expression. The grip Johnny's hand had on his arm loosened as he took several steps back from Todd, taking the knife, which was still embedded in his chest, with him.

"Why? Did you _really_ think I would kill you, Todd? I may not need the bear, but I do need _you_. We have a bond ... a bond that will _remain_ until you die." That said, Johnny's body went lip, falling to the dusty floor of the living room on its back.

Todd could feel himself start to shake all over. Hot tears sprung from his eyes as he looked upon the body of the killer that had saved him from a horrible fate on so many occasions. Johnny's eyes seemed to turn a lighter shade, from a dull black back to the usual brown, as the thing that had once possessed the body of a stuffed bear left unharmed. What had he done? Trembling hands rose in front of his view of Johnny. They were covered in blood. His legs seemed turn to jello and he collapsed to his knees beside the body.

"Nny. I'm ... so sorry." His shuddering hand once again grasped the hilt of the blade, this time to pull it out. As he removed the knife, he was shocked to feel another hand on his own.

Wide eyes meet Johnny's as the man spoke in a weak voice. "Squeegee ... I'm proud of you ... but don't let this become a habit. Heh. Your pupils look like flying saucers. Is it Tuesday?" He gave a weak amused smile and his eyes twinkled with psychotic humor before taking on the dullness of death.

"Nny?" Todd demanded in a torrent of sorrow. "Please. I'm sorry."

Sobs racked his body as he looked from the bloody knife to Johnny's lifeless body. Using his legs to shimmy backwards, he leaned against a boarded up window beside the door, still clutching the knife. It was never going to stop. The horrors were never going to leave him alone. The people around him were never going to be safe, and Shmee wasn't going to let him be until he died. He attempted to calm his breathing as he looked resolutely at the knife.

Dying didn't seem like such a terrible idea right about now. He couldn't live like that. Taking several deep breaths, Todd tightened his grip on the knife, bringing the blade to his left wrist. He placed it against his artery, using the pulse as a guide because the tears were blurring his vision, before pressing down firmly. He had to fight the urge to pull back when he felt a searing pain as the blood started to flow. Instead, he changed angles, digging in deeper and pulling the knife down his arm a few more inches before finally dropping the blade when bright red fluid spurted out, covering his clothes. Incarnation: a type of bloody light.

As he sat there, watching the blood pouring from his own body, mixing with the puddle leaking from Johnny's, he felt his limbs begin to grow cold and numb. He could feel the pulsation of his heart beat throughout his entire body, and more blood was gushing out with every pulse. His mind had never had time to completely clear from the previous near-suffocation, and now his eyelids seemed like they were made of lead.

_"What did you do!"_ Shmee's, once again disembodied, voice demanded, for once free of its all-knowing condescension.

"I'm turning out the light. Goodnight, Shmee." As the boy's head fell back against the boards, he thought he saw a flash of red luminance just before his eyes closed and his mind was enveloped in darkness.

* * *

END CHAPTER!

Notes:  
-The heartagram is the symbol is HIM (His Infernal Majesty): A love metal band.

-"Stop the word, I wanna get off" and "I was born—wait, it gets worse." are both quotes.

-I write Shmee's voice in italics because sometimes it comes seemingly out of nowhere, and his bear form isn't referenced. It's just easier to tell who is talking that way...I hope. Also, yes, he was the creepy voice from the last chapter.

-"Somebody else's problem field" is from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.  
-Squee is a year ahead of Gaz, but art and other electives can be taken by any year.  
-I imagine the song Eliot and Joy sing is something like Whenever I Call You Friend by Kenny Loggins.  
-"But you're better then normal, You're abnormal." is a quote by Fry from Futurama.  
-DSM-The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders.  
-"Sociopaths" generally have antisocial personality disorder-wikipedia has a good summery of this.

-"It is..ummm...it is....," She examined the substance for a long, hard minute. She looked back up and proclaimed with a definitive air, "It is green." This is a paraphrase from Data from Star Trek.  
- "To lose one parent, Mr. Worthing, may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness." is from The Importance of being Earnest by Oscar Wilde.  
-"He would make a lovely corpse." is from Charles Dickins.  
-"Incarnation: a type of bloody light." is either a quote or paraphrase from an Anne Rice book, I think The Vampire Armand...I've read so many that they run together a bit.  
-"You don't have to be mad to work here, but it helps." is a quote, but I don't have a source.  
-You might have noticed that there are suck-monkeys AND brain-freezies in this world. I've decided that the mall sales suck-monkeys and the 24/7 sales brain-freezies.  
-I made up the Resurrectionists. It seems like something that would happen in that universe. I may write a side story about them at some point.


	8. Chapter 8

**Sublime Awakenings Chapter Eight: Waking from a Sleep**

**

* * *

**Warnings: Angst, small dose of intellectual and genetic-based elitism, cursing and negative thinking (but that's mostly a given when Nny's in a chapter), minor sexual implications

* * *

Pepito felt a tear slide down his face as he looked down at the unconscious boy who had helped him to truly understand what it is to be human, without even knowing it. His mother had taught him plenty of things, true, but Todd was the one he practiced with. He was the one who taught him that friendship is about more than just having someone to play with. He touched his forehead with an unsteady hand, brushing shaggy brown bangs to the side. He could feel his life force pulsing in a steady, but weak rhythm with his heart.

Leaning down until their faces were almost touching, so close that he could feel the other's shallow breaths mix with his own, he whispered in a soft voice. "Todd, please come back." It was more of a plea than the command he had meant for it to be, and he saw the tear fall from his own face to land on Todd's before closing his eyes. The shallow pattern of Todd's breathing was broken, as he took in a deep breath, which caught Pepito's attention.

Todd's eyes slowly opened and he blinked several times to adjust his vision. He gasped in surprise at seeing Pepito's face so close to his own, following with several coughs. "Pepito?" he asked in a ragged, yet hopeful voice, "Am I dead?"

When he saw Todd's eyes open, Pepito felt relief flood through his being like melted ice into a mountain river in summer time. He moved back just a little, realizing how very close he actually was. The hope in the other's voice killed a smile before it could form on his lips. "No, Amigo. You are not dead."

Todd's brows furrowed in confusion at the words, which had him taking in his surroundings. He was lying on a twin-sized bed in a room with lots of scientific equipment, but not much personality. There was an IV in his arm, probably feeding him saline water and nutrients. Both of his arms were strapped to the bed, and he could feel bandages around his left wrist. Could he be in a hospital? As the implications of this thought occurred to him, his face took on a panicked look. "Where am I? Are they going to send me back to the institution?"

Pepito sighed sadly before answering the questions. "You're in Dib's basement; in his father's lab. As of now, the only ones who know of this, whatever this is, are Father, Dib, Gaz, and myself. And Johnny C., but he's dead at the moment. I was in the basement doing some ... chores when the All Seeing Eye altered us that Johnny had died, and that's how I knew about your ... predicament. So, no, you are not going back to the institution, unless you still plan on killing yourself." At the last words, he gave Todd a suspicious glance.

The relief that had started to well up in Todd's chest at learning that he wasn't in a hospital was lost when he was reminded of Johnny's death and that he had caused it. He closed his eyes in hopes of stopping himself from crying, once again, in front of the Antichrist.

Pepito cringed at his obvious mistake when the Todd's face was consumed with anguish. "I'm sorry." His stilled hand resumed stroking his forehead and hair in an attempt to comfort. "Do you still want to die?"

Despite his foray into self-hate, Todd felt himself, once again, comforted by Pepito's gentle touch. He opened his eyes to look into Pepito's, feeling hot liquid leak from his own.

Though he was afforded no audible response, the look in Todd's eyes was a clear 'yes'. He was probably afraid to say so aloud, believing that he would be locked up again. With a shock, he realized that Todd would rather die than be locked up again. "You know, Amigo, if you had managed to commit suicide so that you wouldn't have to go back to the D.H.M.I., you would probably have ended up in a personal Hell just like it ... but worse."

Todd smiled bitterly at this. He hadn't really expected much else, though it did seem unfair. Then again, not much in his life had ever been fair. Why should the afterlife be any different? "It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters!" Pepito's argument came out louder and more aggressive than he had meant for it to. This was definitely not the time to scream at Todd, but the situation was starting to piss him off. "Your life matters, Todd. And so does how you die."

"Why? And why do _you_ care anyway? Is it not enough for me to kill myself? Well, fine, I killed Johnny too! And it wasn't his fault at all. He wasn't trying to kill me. But surely you can sense all this without me having to tell you, so maybe even that's not enough. What do you want from me, Pepito? What will it take for you to just let me die? Do you want me to give you my soul officially first?"

At those words and the harsh, desperate tone, Pepito thought that his heart might literally break into a thousand pieces. He slowly removed his hand from the other before taking several careful steps back and just staring at him blankly.

When Pepito moved away and said nothing for several minutes, Todd felt himself grow impatient. "Fine. Can I just say it? In exchange for letting me free of this bed so that I may take my own life, I, Todd Casil, pledge my-"

"Todd! Shut-up! I don't want to hear you say anything like all the shit you just said to me ever again! Ever! Is that clear?" His voice had a dangerous edge that he knew Todd had never heard him use before. As a matter of fact, hardly anyone had heard him use it because he was rarely that mad, even at people he killed ... not that he killed people very often. Well, not too often.

Todd was immediately silent and, for only the second time in eight years, truly scared of Pepito. He turned his head to look up at the ceiling, fighting the urge to cry harder. Maybe his soul wasn't even worth having anymore. He could hear Pepito's booted foot tapping against the concrete floor of the lab as he waited for an answer, which he finally forced out of his sore throat. "Y-yes. I-I'm sorry."

Pepito's gaze softened when he finally spoke in a broken voice, spiked with fear. Todd was one of the last people he wanted to fear him, and it hurt almost as much as the words. Luckily, it didn't make him angry this time. "Good. It's okay, just ... don't do it again. And just so you know, none of what you said about my reasons for caring about your life is true. I care about you because I'm your friend. Or at least I thought I was."

If Todd had doubted that it was possible to feel any worse about himself than he already did, he had been very wrong. The heartache in Pepito's words was like a punch in the gut. He had spent eight years writing and calling Todd. He had helped him through a small crisis earlier that week and now he had helped save his life. He had trusted Todd with his darkest secret. For all this, he was repaid with mistrust and accusations.

"You are." More tears rolled down Todd's face, and he could feel his nose starting to run. "I'm so sorry, Pepito. I don't deserve you. I don't deserve any friends." He clenched his mouth shut to prevent himself from sobbing, but still emitted small sniffles.

Pepito gave a sympathetic sigh before walking back to the bed and looking down at Todd's pitiful state. He picked up a roll of gauze from a table near the bed, cutting off a tissue-sized piece. "I forgive you, Amigo. If I unstrap your arm so that you can wipe your nose, do you think you can behave yourself?"

How could he forgive him so easily? Todd swallowed dryly, looking up at him with gratitude. "Thank you," he chocked out hoarsely.

Once he had unstrapped Todd's right, unharmed, arm, Pepito raised the bed so that he was in a sitting position. He handed him the gauze and looked away to give him a little privacy while he wiped and blew his nose. "You sound like you have a sore throat. Would you like some water, or ice or something?"

Todd lowered the gauze, looking down in shame from his behavior. He really did not deserve a friend this good. "Yes, please. Whichever is easier."

Pepito made his way over to the refrigerator that Professor Membrane had apparently taken to keeping in his lab for storing experiments and general foodstuffs as well. He looked on the second level, which Dib had told him was safe territory. Still weary with the questionable substances nearby, some of which looked as though they might be alive, he chose a sealed bottle of spring water.

Todd blushed slightly from embarrassment when Pepito returned, taking the used gauze and replacing it with a cold bottle of water after opening it for him. "Umm, thanks a lot."

"You're welcome, Squee. You don't have to keep thanking me. Your throat will never get better." He deposited the gauze in a biohazard bin and pulled his chair close to the bed, taking a seat. "You are going to have to do as I say for a while, though."

When Todd stopped mid-drink to give him a questioning look, he continued. "We've decided that someone needs to monitor you for a while, to make sure that ... nothing bad happens. Dib and Zim are going to be pretty busy, and Gaz is, well, you know how she is. So you're going to be staying with me until you're better. I'm sure your parents won't object."

Todd looked down once again, not at all pleased with the situation. How could he explain that he wasn't going to get better; that the only solution was death; that he deserved death?

Seeing the forlorn expression, Pepito decided that waiting to talk about what happened was not the best course of action. "What's wrong, Todd? Why do you want to die so badly?"

Todd looked back at him with sparkling eyes. "I can't control it. And now it's free, and it took control of Nny, and-" He took a moment to sniff, leaving out the awkward occurrence that was probably the worst part of the whole ordeal for Johnny. "And I killed him, but it's still attached to me. It said that it would be until I die."

"It?" Pepito asked calmly. If he wasn't who he was, he would probably be scared out of his wits right now ... or on the phone with the D.H.M.I. Luckily for Todd, possession and demonic attachments were things he understood fairly well.

"Shmee. I know how crazy it sounds, but that old bear that used to talk to me, it's ... alive or something. Not the physical bear itself. It said that Johnny destroyed the body, but ... I think that just set it free to stalk me more directly and hurt other people ... or cause me to hurt them." He looked down again, fidgeting with the bed sheets. "I know most people wouldn't consider it too horrible that I killed Johnny because of what he did, but he was still my friend. And I don't want to kill anyone else."

Pepito closed the small distance between his chair and the bed, sitting to face him. He put his hand on Todd's shoulder. When he looked up, he gave him a small smile, massaging the shoulder a bit. "Todd, Johnny can't die. Not really. He can't _stay_ dead. His job here is too important, and I don't mean being the creative genius behind 'Happy Noodle Boy'."

Todd gave him a curious look before emitting something between a laugh and a sob at the small joke. "What job do you mean?" Surely being a serial killer wasn't that important.

"Johnny is what my father calls a waste lock. He attracts all kinds of negative energy from humanity and keeps it in a portal, in his case a wall. If he dies, he'll just come back because the system needs him. Dying is how waste locks flush out their portals, and he was due for another death soon anyway."

"Does that have anything to do with him killing people?"

"Humm. Father says he was unstable to begin with, and that he was a bad choice for a waste lock because of that ... they're generally supposed to be passive and at least start out being relatively sane. It _is_ one of the reasons he never gets caught, though. But, the point is, he will be back, just like new. I give you my word." With those words, he felt Todd relax a little under his hand. "I'll try my best to help you with Shmee. If he's a demon, I should be able to take care of it. If not ... well, I'll still try my best. But you have to give me a chance. I need you to promise me that you will. Please?"

Todd gave him a hesitate look that contained a hint of lingering guilt. It was probably obvious that he wanted to promise no such thing, but in the end the guilt won. He gave a weak nod, followed by unsure words. "Yes. I ... I promise."

Pepito shot Todd a thankful smile and fought a powerful urge to hug him, though he was still strapped down by one arm and hooked up to an IV on the other. Instead, he raised his hand from the his shoulder to gently stroke his face. It was an oddly intimate gesture for teenage boys, but he didn't give a damn. Neither of them could honestly be accused of being normal. Besides, Todd didn't seem to mind either.

That horrible, troubling, trusting feeling was back. It was like some warm fluff-bunny had burrowed its way into his heart, using its freakishly cutesy ways to convince it to pump out some sort of airy vapor instead of blood. He inadvertently leaned into the soft, comforting touch. "Pepito?" he asked in a low voice.

"Yes, Amigo?"

"Thanks. For caring about me, I mean."

"Always."

A comfortable silence filled the space between the two, which was very slowly starting to disappear as they leaned closer. Of course, as Todd had limited mobility, Pepito leaned the most. His hand slide past smooth, tear streaked skin to bury itself in dark brown locks as he held the back of his head. Todd's eyes were so shiny that he could see his own, a darker, more fiery brown, reflected in them.

When they were mere inches apart, his phone rang, playing a new version of the classic 'Highway to Hell' and ruining the moment. He gave the other a sheepish smile before leaning away some to answer it. "Hello?" he answered in a slightly irritable voice.

"Pepito. Hey, this is Dib. Gaz and I are still with Dad, but I think we're coming home soon. How's Squee?"

"He's awake, and he seems to be okay, considering. I guess we should get out of here before your father comes back?"

"That would probably be best. He would definitely feel obligated to call Squee's parents ... or something."

"Alright. You can come by and see him, but call me first. Father doesn't like unannounced guests. Oh, and he's taking some of you clothes to cover his ... injuries."

"Uh, okay. Ouch! Here, Gaz wants to say something."

"Tell Squee that he owes me for covering for his whiner ass. And tell him that the next time he pulls some emo shit like this, I'll give him a _reason_ to wish he was dead," the girl threatened in her usual, barely controlled, manner.

Grrr! Horrible, arrogant, disrespectful mortal! If she hadn't helped repair Todd's injury, he would teach her who really had power over nightmare worlds ... though she would probably be better at it or at lest enjoy it more, if she had such powers. "Tell me, Gaz, are you sure of your paternal ancestry?" Who was he kidding? He might as well ask about maternal as well. His father could just as easily manifest as a woman, for demons had no fixed sex, though he couldn't see his father carrying a child.

"What is that supposed to mean? Would you just tell him already?"

"Okay, okay. Sheesh. Hold on to your frilly, heart-patterned underwear." Her irritated grunt made him smile. Then he did something guaranteed to make her even madder. "Todd, Gaz says that she's glad you're alright. She is happy she could help you out with your medical problems and by distracting her father. Also, you can borrow her Game Slave." He said all this loudly enough that both Todd and Gaz could hear it clearly.

Todd gave him look of obvious disbelief, but said nothing. Gaz stepped her threats up a notch. She was saying something about stuffed minions feasting on their flesh should they dare enter her room when he hung up. If they were the same age, and he didn't have such blatant demonic powers, he would seriously wonder if they had been switched at birth.

------------------------------------SCENE SHIFT---------------------------------------

Gaz gripped Dib's wrist so tightly that his hand changed colors from lack of blood flow when Pepito hung up on her.

"Gah! Gaz, let go!" Dib jerked his wrist free, turning off his communicator and rubbing the red mark she had left just above it on his arm. His only response was an apathetic 'whatever' as Gaz sank back into bored resentment.

"Son! Daughter! There you are!" Membrane exclaimed in his usual over-enthusiastic manner as he rounded the side of the small building that housed public restrooms, a water fountain, and a few snack machines for park visitors. "I've found a hot dog vendor, just over there!" He pointed over his shoulder dramatically. "The time for lunching is _now_! Then I really do have to get back to the lab."

His offspring followed behind with much less sense of purpose as he led the way to a Delius Weenie stand just across the cobblestone path that was still used for things so nostalgically old fashioned as carriage rides, in front of the restrooms. Once they reached their destination, Membrane took pride in ordering the product of his latest invention, a Super Weenie.

Dib watched Gaz order a foot long chili cheese weenie before getting a regular soy weenie for himself and following his family to claim a park bench to eat their meal. He had only managed to take one bite before his dad spoke in a hushed tone that somehow still managed to sound as informed and passionate as it did on his TV show, 'Probing the Membrane of Science'.

"Son! Daughter! Do you see that family over there? The one buying all those ice cream cones?"

Gaz reluctantly looked where her dad indicated, then simply shrugged and went back to her food.

Dib felt a vague annoyance when his eyes landed on the father, whom he had encountered many a time, much to his displeasure. The man he had not-so-affectionately dubbed 'Da' Cone' appeared to have had a whole litter of kids, all of which currently had ice cream dripping down their faces.

"That is one of the major problems with this world", Membrane exclaimed, "We have a population problem, and most intelligent people decide not to breed. But, I ask you: what happens then? All of the ... less intelligent people are having more than enough to make up for this! It's a classic case of the tragedy of the commons! And _then_ do you know what happens to the human gene pool?"

Gaz gave him a bored look. "It gets really shallow. Sorry, Dad, but we're already there."

He sat up straighter with a sober look. "Yes. Maybe we are. But, it's not too late! Do you know what I'm saying to you, kids?"

Her eyes narrowed into a heated glare, something that was rarely directed at her father. "I am _not_ reproducing. Ever."

Membrane sighed sadly. Gaz was really his best hope, seeing as how is poor son was so very insane. Brilliant, yes, but insane nonetheless. Insanity was not a good thing to pass down through the gene pool, but he supposed it was worth the risk, as long as there was a chance that someone as amazing as himself could be produced to carry on the Membrane legacy and protect the world. Plus, there was still the small chance that Dib could get better. Why, he had even suggested this outing to the city's largest science museum himself!

"What about you, Son? Surely you would not doom mankind to such a lowly fate?"

"I dunno, Dad. Having kids isn't really one of my primary goals in life. We'll just have to see how things turn out." At this point, he probably wouldn't even be getting married for a long time, if ever. He knew that anyone he was involved with was a potential target, a weakness at his enemy's disposal. That had been one of the reasons for his breakup with Vayowen.

"You know, Son, my lab is working on some new reproductive methods. By the time you're ready, you may not even need a woman!"

Dib's head shot up at the insinuation that ... well, he wasn't really sure what kind of insinuation it was, but it sounded offensive. "What!"

An amused smirk formed on Gaz's lips. "Yeah, pretty soon Dib and his 'little foreign friend' could even have a kid together, huh, Dad?"

"Exactly! And already, I'm sure we could avoid passing on his strange skin condition!"

"I am _not_ going to spawn with the Allieeen!"

"Son, I'm sure that if you marry him, he will be granted citizenship, if that's what you're always going on about."

Dib stood in a fit of anger, throwing his half-eaten veggie-dog into the compost bin, though he was highly tempted to chunk it at a family member. "I don't have to take this abuse from you; I've got hundreds of people dying to abuse me already. I'm leaving."

------------------------------------SCENE SHIFT---------------------------------------

After Pepito flipped his phone shut, sliding it into the pocket of his black jeans, he rose from the bed. "Alright, Amigo. I'm going up to Dib's room to find you some concealing clothes." He gave him a suspicious look. "Do I need to strap you back down?"

"Uh, no, I'm okay like this. Really."

"Fine, but I'm coming right back, and if you've tried anything I'll make you wear Gaz's clothes for your whole stay with me. Her _new_ clothes." Before leaving, he pulled the IV machine away from the bed so that the tube was taut, not allowing Todd to move his right arm to unstrap his left.

"Thanks for the trust!" Todd yelled sarcastically at his retreating back.

As Pepito made his way up the stairs, he made a short call, leaving a message for Todd's father about his whereabouts for the next couple of weeks. He was thankful that the answering machine picked up, because Mrs. Casil wouldn't have known what he was talking about, much less remembered to relay it. He left his number, but was certain there would be no opposition.

Upon reaching Dib's room, he was annoyed to discover that his closet was locked and required hand print verification to access. Luckily for Dib, there was also a dresser, so he wouldn't have to blow the lock. He dug through the drawers until he found appropriate attire and dumped out an array of paranormal investigating equipment, only to take the duffel bag that held it.

Sighing, Todd leaned over carefully to take a long sip of water, which was pretty much all he could do. He nearly dropped the water when a weight suddenly landed on his lower legs. "Ah! What-oh."

An orange, furry mixture of flesh and metal that resembled a cat titled its head to one side, before emitting a loud purr and walking up his body. It was obviously one of Membrane's experiments, but its actions suggested that it was treated as a pet.

"Hi, kitty ... I think."

The cat came closer, nuzzling his right arm, which actually hurt a bit because of the IV. Todd sat the water down on the table to his right to give the cybernetic feline a gentle pet. Just then, the door to the lab was opened rather loudly, causing the cat to jump and shoot a laser beam from its head, straight through the IV tube. This caused the cord to fall limply to the ground, leaking clear fluid onto the floor.

Pepito came to a stop in front of the bed with a confused look. "How did you manage that?"

"Would you believe that some kind of mechanical cat shot it with a laser from its head? It should still be around here somewhere." Todd attempted to look over both sides of the bed, but couldn't really see much.

"Todd, death by cat? That's kind of pathetic."

"Yeah, but it could be worse. It could be a tiny dog named Nacho with a sweet tooth for PB n' Js and the second graders who eat them. Besides, the cat shot a friggin _laser beam_ from its head."

"I suppose ...." Pepito deposited the pile of clothes he was carrying on the foot of the bed. "Okay, I'm going to unstrap you now so you can get dressed."

After gently unstrapping Todd's left arm and removing the IV tip from his right, Pepito went about clearing away any evidence that they had been there, except for the fact that he was stuffing the duffel bag full of medical supplies as well. Ah well, with children like Dib and Gaz, Membrane probably went through medical supplies at such an alarming rate that he wouldn't notice anyway.

Todd gave the clothes an appraising look: a black, long sleeved shirt claiming, 'Capitalists are Pirates without a Code', slightly baggy blue jeans with a swollen eyeball patch sewn on one knee, green 'Seeing is Believing' socks, and... "Alien print underwear?"

Pepito looked up from the bag that he was just zipping. "Heh. Yeah, Dib's such a xenophile. I couldn't find any shoes, but I have some gym shoes in the car. Father is at work right now, probably with Johnny, but Mother usually has the weekends off. I called her while you were asleep, and she said you could stay as long as you want, but she thinks you have a cold so ... you know, don't let her know about your 'accident' ... she kind of _is_ social services."

"Yeah, okay." Looking down, Todd realized that he was wearing a hospital-type gown, and it felt like he was completely naked underneath. That was embarrassing. Of course, his clothes, and body, must have been soaked in blood. Luckily, he had grown accustomed to such situations at the D.H.M.I. Even so, at the institution there had been a professional distance that was lacking here. And his arm was going to make this very awkward too.

"Hey, Pepito? Could you turn around for a moment?"

"Huh?" he asked as if he had never so much as heard of the word modesty. "Oh. Yeah, sure." When he turned around to face the other side of the lab, he spotted the aforementioned cyborg cat as it darted out of the lab and into the rest of the house. "Let me know when you're ready ... or if you need help or something."

Todd's eyes widened at the slightly teasing tone the other had used when offering 'help'. He bit back a smart reply in case it just so happened that he really did need help, real help, because he was feeling pretty weak. He sighed at the small burden ahead of him before slowly sliding off of the bed to stand on wobbly legs. He braced himself with his good arm until he was sure he was balanced and then used it to pick up the boxers with tiny green aliens on them. He managed to step into them and pull them up with only one hand.

The pants followed, but, to his dismay, buttoning them was next to impossible so he skipped that step to tug the shirt over his head. He ended up with unbuttoned pants, a few sizes to big to boot, and the black shirt covering little more than half of his upper torso, with his right arm stuck in the material. He could only imagine how incredibly stupid he must look. This was even more embarrassing than if he had asked for help to begin with! He made one last ditch effort to get into the shirt before relenting. "Uh, Pepito?" he asked in a pathetic voice. "I think maybe I do need some help."

Turning around, Pepito had to bit his tongue to hold in the torrent of laughter that seemed to want to burst forth from his lips. That was just priceless! "Wow." Walking closer, he slipped a hand into his pocket to once again pull out his trusty cell phone.

"Pepito? What are you doing?" Todd's voice was full of worried suspicion.

"Say queso, Amigo!"

His eyes widened when he saw Pepito holding up the, now open, cell phone. "Pepito, do _not_ take a picture of me like this. Sto-" Before he could finish the sentence there was a small flash of light as Pepito snapped his picture. "Why did you do that?" he whined.

Pepito simply shrugged, returning the phone to his pocket. "For black-mail, of course. If you don't take care of yourself and let me help you, I can show this to everyone you know. Neat, huh?"

"Not so much, no. Are you at least going to delete it after all this is over?"

When he reached Todd, Pepito pulled the bottom of the shirt down and held the sleeves up one at a time, allowing him to get his arms through. "Maaayyybbbeee."

"You're going to keep it to black-mail me again later, aren't you?" asked Todd with a huff. He wasn't really as upset as he seemed. It could easily have been worse. Letta still had a few pictures of him dressed as a girl, though he was slowly and surely tracking them down and obliterating them, but Pepito didn't need to know that. "Manipulative bastard," he accused with playful, fake vindictiveness.

"Hey, my mother would resent that! Strangely enough, my parents were married when I was born. You are right about the manipulative part though. But, I won't show it to anyone as long as you keep your promise."

"I wouldn't have made it if I didn't intend to keep it. Besides, I guess it really is worth a try." Todd looked down for a moment. "It just felt like so many bad things were happening all at once and so hopeless, like dying was the only thing I had any real control over."

"Good. In Hell, most suicides are nearly impossible to pull out of the negative energy that they build up around themselves. They remain locked in their own minds, tortured by their own self-hate. I'm not telling you this to scare you. Wait. Okay, I am, but my point remains valid. Even I might not have been able to reach you in such a state." He paused to let this information sink in before continuing in a lighter mood. "And I like having you around."

"Even when I'm incapable of dressing myself?"

An amused smirk formed on Pepito's face. "Especially then." His hands moved under Todd's borrowed shirt, running along the seam of the loose fitting jeans to find the button. He really should have foreseen this problem and found some sweat pants, but he was currently having trouble regretting it.

The hands under the shirt and the teasing undertone in his voice had Todd blushing fiercely. He turned his head to the side, avoiding his gaze. Having been so sheltered, this was new and very strange to him. Also, he could never really tell how serious Pepito was about such things, over the phone or in person, and he wasn't even completely sure how he felt about them either. The fluttering in his stomach could be interpreted in a few very different ways.

Pepito finally withdrew his hands after having some minor 'difficulties' with the button himself. "There. I think we're ready to go now." He slung the bag over his shoulder and wrapped his other arm under Todd's to help him up the stairs since he was probably still weak from losing so much blood, even with the transfusion they had given him the previous night. He briefly considered using his powers to help with the task, but decided against it. It was most likely best to keep any abnormal occurrences to a minimum for a while.

--------------------------SCENE SHIFT-----------------------

Dark towers rose up from the firmament as if reaching out for a long lost triumph, but none reaching as high as the top tower of the castle he was currently making his observations from. Behind them, at a distance of several miles, he could see heat waves and occasional puffs of smoke rising from a molten river that surrounded the small city of Pandemonium.

"Hey, Mr. Satan! What's the deal with the river of fire?" Johnny asked from the window. "It's so ... traditional. I didn't see anything like that during my last visit."

"What? Oh, yes. Well, last time you were in with other human souls in one of the cities of the damned. This," Señor Diablo spread his arms to indicate the surrounding area, "is my city, where demons, other infernal creatures and a select few human souls reside. The river of fire is really just to keep out unwanted individuals who would come here seeking prestige. Now, pay attention."

Johnny reluctantly turned from the view to watch as Mr. Satan approached a stone pedestal with a concave top. He placed his hands above the surface and slowly spread them to reveal a swirling vortex of fiery doom. It appeared to be a miniature version of the large, eye-shaped storm swirling at the very peek of the tower they were in, the same one that seemed to watch over all of the cities in Hell as he recalled from his last visit. When Mr. Satan stepped back, the vortex spun faster until Johnny could no longer make out the condensations of energy that made it up. It grew cloudy before forming a clear picture of the previous night. Johnny had just brought Squee's bear home with him.

-----------------------ASE Broadcast-------------------

"Okay, Mr. Bear-bear, why have you been causing so much trouble for Squeegee?"

"_I don't cause trouble for Todd. I eat his troubles. You, on the other hand, seem to have exposed him to so much 'trouble' that he now requires extreme experiences to achieve the desired effect."_

"Lies! Things like you always claim to help, but if you were really still a part of Squee, you wouldn't be able to talk to _me_ right now, without him even around, would you? And what do you mean 'desired effect'?"

"_Ha! You think I came from Todd? And the effect I desire is trauma, fear: sublime and pure. I thrive on it, just as you thrive on the pain of others. You've made it harder for him to experience these things with all your macabre tales and your sick, twisted humor. So, it seems to me that it is your fault that he must now face such 'troubles' so that I may feed." _

"You _vile_, parasitic monstrosity! How dare you try to put the blame on _me_ for your malicious ... maliciousness! Well, you know what, Shmee? You're not going to be eating anyone's trauma anymore! I am going to see to it that-"

-------------------ASE Broadcast End-----------------

The image froze, then speed up as Señor Diablo fast-forwarded through Johnny's life like it was nothing more than a rented videotape. "Yes, yes. Well, I'm sure even _you_ remember the events that occurred less than twenty-four hours ago. Stop!" Suddenly, the scene froze again. "Here is where it gets interesting."

Johnny found himself once again wondering if there was any way to kill the Devil, but was drawn from his speculation on the matter when the scene resumed.

---------------------ASE Broadcast------------------

He had just finished incinerating Squee's old teddy bear in one of the underground rooms below his house. The incinerator seemed to be designed for cremating human bodies, though it was difficult to be sure because it, like most of the torture devices and the many subterranean floors themselves, had been there when he moved in. That's what he used it for in any case. The turn over rate of bodily decay in his front yard wasn't high enough for his liking, and it was more convenient than finding some secluded place to bury the extras.

As the Johnny in the All Seeing Eye opened the metal, oven-like door of the incinerator to make sure that all of the bear was gone, something took form behind him. That something appeared to be an approximately three-foot long, two feet wide ... thing. The thing glowed, though it almost appeared as more of a smoke or fog than a glow, a muddy red. Inside of this glow was what looked like a being that somehow was made up of energy, but still had organs; non-organic organs that were themselves made up of energy. The head and six wispy tentacles that branched off from its body were a murky orange, while the twin organs in the center of the being that resembled the lungs of many Earth creatures were solid black. With such a creature as this, however, the lung-looking organs most certainly served a completely different function.

Johnny chuckled a bit at the thought of the smoky exterior causing the being to develop the black lung.

His amusement came to a halt when the being in the eye charged at his self from the previous night, merging completely into his body. The body spasmed uncontrollably, then swayed limply, nearly falling to the ground before regaining balance. It turned almost mechanically from the still open incinerator to walk up the stairs.

----------------------ASE Broadcast End-----------------

The scene once again came to a stop in accordance with Señor Diablo's will. "That being was obviously manipulating you into destroying the stuffed bear so that it could use you for its own purpose. Do you remember being possessed by it?"

Johnny shuddered at the memories. "Some of it, yes. I don't know what it is, if that's what you're getting at. I'd assumed that it was a runaway figment of Squee's imagination. If it's not that, and it's not one of yours, then what is it?"

"That, my amusingly ill-chosen waste lock, is precisely what I would like to find out. We can't have outside entities disrupting the system here, now can we? And you know how inclined those in Heaven are to getting off their infantile posteriors to actually do anything about it."

He paused briefly to turn his attention to a young woman in a white dress suit and tie with long black hair who had been leaning against a wall, listening patiently. "Elize, would you see Johnny to the exit?"

The woman pushed herself off the wall to walk across the circular room to Johnny, hooking her arm casually around one of his. "Yes, my Lord. _Come_ Johnny."

"Wait! I'm not ready to go back yet! The boy that came to my house after what you just showed me! What happened to him? Did he get in trouble? And that thing is still alive, right? I need to know how it can be killed. It caused me to endure horrible things! Just _horrible_!"

"If you can be of further assistance to us, we will be in contact with you. And I have a feeling that Todd Casil may be in very deep trouble indeed. But he is currently alive and not in legal trouble, if that is what you mean."

"Show me."

Señor Diablo sighed wearily. He had things of much more importance to do, but if this would get the deranged waste lock out of his horns for the remainder of his stay in Hell, then so be it. "Very well. But then you must go."

The paused scene at Johnny's house clouded over. When the swirls parted again, he saw two teenage boys in what appeared to be a mini-medical unit. Looking closely, he noticed that the one in the bed was Squee, though he looked rather pale, even for someone who had only seen the light of day on occasional weekends for the past eight years. "What happened to him?"

"He tried to kill himself."

Johnny broke off what would have been his next sentence when the scene started moving.

-----------------------ASE Broadcast----------------------

The darker kid was stroking Squee's hair, which struck Johnny as fairly distasteful, like all human contact, especially when it involved bodily fluids of any kind. He unconsciously jerked his arm away from Damned Elize's grasp. He must have missed something because the next the he knew, the boys were yelling at each other.

"Of course it matters! Your life matters, Todd. And so does how you die."

"Why? And why do _you_ care anyway? Is it not enough for me to kill myself? Well, fine, I killed Johnny too! And it wasn't his fault at all. He wasn't trying to kill me. But surely you can sense all this without me having to tell you, so maybe even that's not enough. What do you want from me, Pepito? What will it take for you to just let me die? Do you want me to give you my soul officially first?"

At those words, the other teen, apparently named 'Pepito', stepped away from the bed, a hurt look on his face.

-------------------ASE Broadcast End-------------------

The scene froze again. Mr. Satan stood, staring at the Eye, and Johnny cast a suspicious gaze his way. "Why would that Pepito kid want Squeegee's soul?"

Damn it! That was the last time he was using real-time ASE around anyone who wasn't under his control! Señor Diablo put on his best poker face. "The boy is clearly insane."

"Oh, come-on! You're the Devil! You exist! Demons exist! That boy is one of them, isn't he? _Isn't he_?"

"Calm down! Ahem." Señor Diablo stood taller, then held out a hand for a short scroll to materialize into it. "I'm going to need you to sign a contract stating that you will not divulge what you have just seen to anyone on Earth. Not that they would believe you."

"No way! I'm not one of your underlings that you can just order around! I have my freedom ... sort of."

"Be that as it may, you _will_ sign the contract."

Johnny raised his hand to his chin in contemplation. "Don't people who make a deal with da' Devil usually get something out of it?"

"Must I remind you to address me by my distinguished title? And, yes, they do. However, most people who make a deal with me sell me their souls. I cannot take yours, so you will simply be agreeing to be silent on this matter."

"I still think I should get something."

"Very well. How about I tell you about your tragic and mysterious past? It is very intriguing, you know."

For a quick moment Johnny contemplated the prospect. "Umm, I was thinking more along the lines of something of a more material nature."

Elize smiled widely, taking Johnny hand in her own. "How about we spend a little time together before you have to wake up. I have a small riverfront condo." She made her offer in a seductive voice, following with a quick wink.

He jerked his hand away again, this time in complete disgust. "No, thank you! _That_ is not what I had in mind." He turned his attention back to Mr. Satan. "Remember that trench-coat that you said I couldn't keep last time I was here?"

---------------------SCENE SHIFT--------------------------

"Is _this_ it?"

Johnny sighed as a stumpy little hobgoblin-looking demon with too many trinkets and amulets to count around his neck held up a brown, suede jacket. "No. I told you, it's long, and black and _perfect_."

"How about this?"

"No."

"This?"

"Hell no! That looks like it was made for a twenty dollar hooker!"

"That sounds like a decent price for you," the demon scoffed in irritation, throwing the white-furred coat into the huge discarded pile that was already as tall as himself.

"Touch me and the price will be your _life_!" He back away from the goblin and the coats to take up a defensive posture, which he dropped only seconds later. "Uhh ... do you technically have a 'life'?"

"No. Nor do I particularly want one."

"Oh. Is there an equivalent for demons?"

Elize sighed dejectedly, slumping against the concrete wall of the Mega Hell Storage facility. Señor Diablo had put her in charge of watching Johnny for the rest of his time in Hell, and then for some undefined amount of time on Earth in case that entity returned to have another go at him. Her first obligation was to help him find some trench coat that had been out of style in the cities of the damned for a good eight years in Earth time ... who knew how many fashion seasons that was in Hell?

The coat had, of course, been taken off the shelves of stores and back-stocked for a time when it would be remarketed as retro. Unfortunately, the storage system had not been designed for early retrieval, as no one in the cities would want something that wasn't currently in style. They had already been to several storage buildings with no luck when Elize had finally broken down and called in a favor from a minor demon she knew, who was supposed to be good at finding lost objects. That had been hours ago, and she was beginning to suspect that his real purpose was wasting the time of the greedy or, in this case, the insanely obsessed.

She finally snapped. "Okay. I've had enough of this. You're not going to find the damn coat, so just pick something else!"

Johnny looked at her with a useless homicidal gleam in his eyes. "My contract said that I get _the_ coat from last time!"

Damned Elize looked at her watch, which told something that could be interpreted roughly into a likeness of time. Of course, there was no time in Hell, or on any other spiritual plane, but time was still a relevant, if hard to grasp, factor because of their interaction with the material world."Well, in that case, the contract will be void soon."

"There! This feels right." The little demon held up a long, black trench coat that just might have been the right one.

"Yes! Thank you, strange, little demon-monkey! At long last, it's mine!" Johnny yanked the coat from his claw victoriously, hugging it to his chest.

"Thank the powers that's over." Elize felt some of the tension leave her disembodied spirit as she rose from the floor. "And you know what, Johnny? I'm going to let you pick out a whole new wardrobe to go with that coat if you can get dressed before we have to leave for the Earth."

Johnny looked at Elize with deep-seated mistrust. "You think you can trick me, but know this! I know your plan! You just want me to change so you can see me naked! Well, it's not going to happen!"

Elize simply smirked. "No, really. I won't look."

"Lies!"

"If you say so." She looked down at her watch in boredom.

Johnny looked from Elize to the stockpiles of clothing at his disposal and back, unsure. "Do you _promise_ not to look?"

"Sure."

"Monkey-man! Watch her carefully!" With that, he darted through the isles, fishing through various bins, all of which he left in a wrinkled mess. Once he had finally found suitable attire, he retreated behind a large stack of boxes to change, peeking occasionally to make sure that Elize had remained with the goblin-demon. Just as he was about to present himself in his new wardrobe, complete with the most amazing trench coast ever, he felt himself poof out of that existence. He only had a millisecond to fret about the horrors of waking from a sleep that he would soon fall victim to.

--------------Dimensional Shift----------------------

Johnny yawned groggily before smacking his dry lips together a few times. He absentmindedly stretched his limbs as his consciousness slowly floated to the surface of his newly resurrected body. The first thing he registered was that he was laying on his side, in a fetal position, on something cold, hard and scratchy. Shit! There was that miserable feeling that made what little grasp he had on reality even more intangible. Had he fallen asleep or had what now seemed only a dream really taken place? And where the Hell was he!

Deciding that his last question was currently the most important, he opened his eyes and uncurled himself to take in his surroundings. The first thing to meet his retinas was the open, blue sky and the bright sun. The second thing was a large water fountain rising up from the concrete directly in front of him. That was vaguely familiar. Making quick, shifty movements, he crouched against the side of the fountain and scanned the area in his line of vision. He was surrounded by small shops. That could only mean one thing. He was in The Square: the last commercial sector of the city that had yet to be taken over or simply driven out of business by large corporations selling everything a modern American could want at great convenience and super, low, low prices brought to them by underpaid, malnutritioned children in the third world.

But _how_ did he get there? Surely he wouldn't have fallen asleep in public! There were no signs of a massacre, so he hadn't overexerted himself and passed out.

"Allow me to set the record straight." Elize smiled brightly at him from her seat on the edge of the fountain. "Yes, it really happened. You flushed again, and you have just been resurrected, again."

"But _why_ am I _here_? And why are _you_ here? Don't you belong in Heaven or Hell or something?"

"As far as I can tell, we're all here because existence is Chaos, and Chaos holds infinite chance. But if you mean in this particular place together, Señor Diablo wants me to keep an eye on you for a while. And I think waking up here beats that crummy, condemned jumble of boards you call a house any day. So, wanna go shopping?" She shot him a perky smile as she sprung to her feet.

"No. I need to find Squee. Where was he in the Eye?"

"Oh, you don't need to worry about that. I'm sure he is being taken care of."

"By a _demon_?"

"Sure. Pepito's a real sweetie. He'll be fiinne. So, relax. Let's take a walk, show off your new threads." She offered him her hand.

A small smile played at his lips when he looked down at his wardrobe, remembering that Mr. Satan had finally let him keep that wonderful coat. He staggered to his feet, ignoring the offered hand. His face contorted in confusion when he immediately drew the attention of everyone whose eyes passed over him.

Most of those who saw him reacted with shock, some backing away, some covering their eyes and the eyes of their children and some coming closer to form a small circle of spectators around him. A few ignored him, going about their business as usual.

"What are you people staring at?! Do I look _that_ weird? That _wacky_? Is that it!" If only he had a weapon! Maybe there was something useful laying around ....

A teen with green hair and braces tilted his head to the side in contemplation. "Well, you _are_ pretty skinny."

Grabbed in an apron that sported the image of a steaming cup of coffee, Letta forced her way through the gathered crowd that her boss had told her to check on. "Okay, what's going on here?" Her eyes widened at the sight of a bare-naked Johnny C. shouting indignant remarks at the gawking public. "Johnny! Why are you .... naked?"

"Naked! I am not naked! Why would I be naked?" He looked down once again at his newly acquired clothing. Everything seemed to be in order. There was hardly any skin showing at all! Why the hell did she think he was naked? An angry, suspicious look crept onto his face as he rounded on his Damned guardian. "Elize! Am I naked?"

"Of course not, Johnny." Her smile was full of sadistic humor. "You're wearing your new outfit. It just so happens that most mortals can't see it."

"_What_?"

"Well, what did you expect? You did get it in Hell. Hell is a spiritual realm, more energy that matter. Like your soul. So, everything there is of that nature. That's why you're generally not allowed to bring it back to this world."

"Why didn't anyone tell me this in Hell!"

"We couldn't get through to you. You were an insistent ass, so don't complain to me. You got what you asked for."

Her reasons for choosing a public place for their entrance to Earth suddenly made a lot more sense. Johnny glared at her, wishing that she were still alive so that he might kill her.

Letta looked nervously from the crowd to Johnny, then to the vacant area beside him that he appeared to he having a one-way conversation with. Removing her apron, she inched her way closer to the D.H.M.I. Volunteer, whom she knew suffered from sleep deprivation. "Nny, who are you talking to?"

Looking back to Letta and the crowd, both of which seemed even more unnerved at his conversing with Elize, Johnny realized that they couldn't see her either. "No one. No one at all." He took the pink apron that she held out to him, easily slipping it over his new clothes. "I think I'll go home now."

The crowd parted as he walked though, followed by an overly happy Damned Elize. He tried to memorize some of the faces, in case he felt like killing someone later. Right now he was too embarrassed to kill anyone.

* * *

END CHAPTER!

Notes:

-"I don't have to take this abuse from you, I've got hundreds of people dying to abuse me." is a quote by Dr. Peter Venkman from Ghost Busters.

-The 'all seeing eye'; in hell is a 13 Ghosts reference. Traditionally, I think the all seeing eyes is a Freemason symbol and belongs to God (the Great Architect, not specifically Christian), and their inspiration was probably the Eye of Horus and Medieval and Renaissance European iconography. I used this idea in The Fluff as well. Also, when I read JTHM I noticed that one of the women in Hell tells Nny about the eye that everyone in Hell thinks is watching them, so it fits pretty nicely.

-The cyborg cat was a kitten in Moopiness of Doom. It, and most or all of the other scripts, are considered cannon in SubAwake, and there are lots of references to them throughout the fic. You shouldn't need to read them, but they're pretty cool. Some of them, like Moopiness, also have been voice acted (by the actual cast before the eps were canceled) and you can listen to the audio. Those scripts can be found at the bottom of the closet at RWaM & GIR.

-"Capitalists are Pirates without a Code" is a quote by me, but it was inspired by the movies Hooke and Pirates of the Caribbean: At Worlds End. The East-Indian trading company reminded me of Windy accusing Peter of becoming a pirate when his son explained that he was a corporate lawyer, but then I realized that pirates at least had a code.

-~KrazyKatana (on DA) inspired a lot of Johnny's role in this part by suggesting that he get to keep the coat from last time. In honor of JV's belief that even good things should hurt, I decided it would be invisible to mortals without "the sight". Then Elize wanted to kick it up a notch when he rejected her.


	9. Chapter 9

**Sublime Awakenings Chapter Nine: Adumbrations**

**

* * *

**Warnings: Sexual implications and innuendo, angst

* * *

"Here you go, boys." Rosemary Diablo smiled brightly as she placed two steaming mugs of hot cocoa on the kitchen table in front of them. "I'll have some sandwiches ready for lunch in a few minutes."

"Thank you, Mrs. Diablo." Todd made an attempt at sounding merry before staring contemplatively into the swirls of cream and chocolate in his blue mug as if it might form a configuration that would tell him how to get out of the huge mess that seemed to compose most of his life. It didn't.

"Yes, thank you, Mother." Pepito took a large gulp from his drink before scooting his chair closer to Todd's. He propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand so as to lean even closer. "Drink the cocoa, Amigo. It's good."

"Huh?" Todd looked up.

"It isn't made of the roasting souls of the damned or anything like that." Pepito gave a small, amused smile, hoping to coax one from his friend as well.

"Aww. No soul-toast?" Todd returned the smile half-heartedly at first, but it soon grew as he got a good look at Pepito's mug, which was decorated with pastel clouds and similarly colored cartoon bears with the word 'WUV' in rainbow colors occupying a prominent place around the bottom. "Nice mug, by the way."

Quickly looking down at his mug, Pepito felt his face tint a light pink. "Oh, uh, Mother got it for me."

Rosemary smirked at his embarrassment as she set three plates with sandwiches and chips on the table. "Wuv Bears was one of Pepi's favorite shows when he was younger. Remember the 'Wuv Awot' song, dear? You used to know it by heart."

"Mother! I ... I most certainly did not."

"I have you singing along with the show on a home video in the attic, if want to see it." She gave Todd a conspiratorial wink.

"I wanna see it," Todd said with enthusiasm before swiftly looking away from the glare that he was sure Pepito was sending his way about then.

Sulking like the momentarily disgraced adolescent that he was, Pepito used his foot to give Todd's a gentle sideways kick that was more like a nudge in light of the other's weakened condition. "Just eat your sandwich, Todd."

He bit into his own a little harshly. One would think that being the Antichrist would at least get him enough respect around his own house to avoid these embarrassing little trifles. As he felt Todd return his kick and heard his mother giggling softly at his typical, indignant reaction, he couldn't help but smile a little himself. It was a begrudging admission that what he wanted most from those closest to him wasn't really respect, and certainly not fear, but affection, even if it meant enduring his six-year-old self singing along, most likely off key, with the sickeningly cute 'Wuv Bear' theme song. He still hoped it wouldn't come to that.

_Ding Dong Ding. Ding Dong Ding_

"Oh! Someone's at the door," Rosemary announced. She rose from her seat, patting Pepito's shoulder to encourage him to sit back down. "It's alright honey, I'll get it." Pushing in her chair, she brushed a few crumbs from her yellow-spotted sundress before padding out of the kitchen and across the living room to answer the front door.

As his mother left the room, Pepito turned to Todd, who had yet to touch his food. "Remember what I said about you having to do as I tell you? Well, I'm telling you to eat the sandwich. Right now."

Todd gave him a questioning, affronted look before reluctantly lifting the turkey sandwich to his mouth to take a small bite. "Happy now?"

"Certainly." Pepito smiled a little. "Now, if you clean your plate maybe I'll let you have ice cream for dessert."

"Yay."

"Seriously, Todd, eating will help replenish your blood so that you won't feel as weak. Plus, you're kind of thin. How often do you eat anyway?" There was a hint of suspicion in the question.

"Just because I had that little 'accident' doesn't mean that I'm anorexic too. It just so happens that the food at the institute tastes like it comes from the Irritable Bowel Ward."

"I can attest to that."

Todd looked up to see Johnny leaning against the door frame of the kitchen. His hair had apparently fallen out again, leaving him with two blue stalks, one on each side of his head. He was wearing what appeared to be a fresh set of clothes, complemented by a long, black trench coat.

"Nny!" Todd's voice was full of joyful relief at the sight of his, living, homicidal neighbor, suggesting that perhaps there really was a first time for everything. He found himself fighting back a natural urge to hug him, something he would have done if anyone else that he cared about were in Johnny's place ... and if he had not been the one to put them there. That definitely increased the awkwardness of an already tense situation. What exactly did one say on such an occasion? "Nice trench coat." Oh, that was _just_ what the situation called for!

"Hey, Squeegee." Johnny gave his, shockingly happy, little neighbor a lopsided smile that was intended to be friendly, but probably came out manically demented instead. "Huh?" Oh yeah. He was still wearing the trench. When he had finally made it home, traveling through back alleys in an attempt to avoid exposing his apparent nakedness to any more bystanding bags of human trash than necessary, he had changed into some of his rare, clean, and nonblood-stained earthly clothes. He had left the trench coat on, figuring that it wouldn't matter if others couldn't see it. It's not like he wanted it for a meaningless sign of social status like the other morons in this city! "Oh! You can see it?"

Todd's brow furrowed in nervous confusion. "Ummm. Yes." He wasn't sure why he shouldn't be able to see it, or whether Johnny would consider it to be a good or bad thing that he could.

Turning back toward the living room, Johnny shouted in a needlessly loud voice, "Elize!" The slinky, dark-haired woman suddenly joined him in the doorway, wrapping a thin arm around his neck.

"Johnny!" she screamed his name in a pitch similar to the one he had used for her own before dropping into a lower, sultry voice, "What can I do for you?" Her fingers lightly played at his neck.

"First, you can get the hell off!" He gave her a violent shove into the opposite side of the door frame. "How many times do I have to tell you not to touch me!"

Elize smiled despite the impact, which, of course, caused her no harm. "At least once more, my delicious charge, as always."

"Arrragg! Whatever. Look! Squee can see the coat!" He pointed dramatically at Squee, who was still at the table, staring at them with wide eyes, probably in disbelief that someone had just flirted with Johnny without being torn limb from limb. Oh, if only she could be ....

"Yes. I told you that some mortals can see it. It would make sense that he could, considering his current predicament." Pushing herself off the door frame that she had been leaning against, Elize took a seat at the table, turning her attention to its occupants. "Greetings, Pepito. You're looking _well_, she emphasized the last word with a quick wink.

Having watched the conversation with mild interest until that point, Pepito put down his half eaten sandwich to give her a reluctant smile. "Hello, Elize. So, what are you doing with Johnny C.?" He could hazard a good guess as to what she was doing, but doing so would reveal his secret identity, not that he had much to fear from someone with Johnny's level of psychological stability. It was annoying, but not entirely surprising, that he was finding out about this from Elize instead of his father.

"The Dark Lord has assigned me to guard him. He isn't sure if it will attempt another attack on him or not, but we need to be safe until we have more information. The entity may require a certain amount of psychic ability in its hosts, and it knows where to find these two. Plus, it obviously has some sort of attachment to them." She smirked at his exasperated look at her open talk of 'the Dark Lord', waving his concerns away before he could voice them. "Relax. He already knows."

"He knows? How!"

Smiling knowingly at Todd, Elize recalled the argument that she and Johnny had been witness to.

Following her eyes, Pepito turned back to Todd, incredulous. "You told him?"

"No! Wait. Yes, but I was nine." Todd was fairly certain that he had told Johnny about Pepito being the Antichrist when he was younger, but the maniac's memory was like a patch-work quilt: made up of small segments of his history, few in honest chronological order, and many sewn to two or more pieces concurrently. Until that point, he hadn't really considered the possibility that Johnny might still remember it. "Sorry?"

Losing his agitation, Pepito sighed in acceptance. He really couldn't blame Todd for telling anyone that long ago, especially in a psychiatric setting where it must have seemed like just one more distorted memory. After all, he had been the one to announce it to their entire second grade class himself ... which he knew was the reason that he got left of the out loop a lot by his father; he still wasn't great with secrets. Much better, yes, but not great.

"You knew that he was a demon that long ago? You told me?" Johnny looked to Squee in confusion, receiving a similar look in return.

Elize took it upon herself to explain. "He saw your little argument this morning on the All Seeing Eye. But not to worry, he has signed a contract with Senor Diablo stating that he will not reveal any of what he saw. It's good to see that you made up with your little friend. Speaking of which, aren't you going to introduce me?" She nodded toward Todd.

"No."

"No? Why not? Ohhhhhh. You're _jealous_. The only question is, are you jealous of me or him?"

"I don't do jealousy. Todd's just been through a lot lately, and he doesn't need anyone like you trying to take advantage of that. So, back off."

"Me, take advantage? For shame, Pepito. You know, your father would be disappointed in your lack of hospitality."

Pepito rolled his eyes at this. "Elize, this is Todd Casil. Todd, this is Damned Elize. She is a discarnate human soul who died in the late nineteen-nineties. She is technically a resident of Hell, but since she is less stupid than most human souls who go there, she works for the administration."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Todd Casil." Smiling brightly at having gotten her way, and ignoring the mild insult to her intelligence, Elize offered her hand in salutation.

Looking back and forth between Pepito and Elize, Todd hesitantly shook the hand. "It's, uh, nice to meet you too."

Johnny watched the scene unfold uneasily. He wondered if Mr. Satan had purposefully chosen Damned Elize because of her innate ability to make him uncomfortable. The bastard was probably watching him on his freaky eye in the sky thingee right now, laughing his ass off.

Rosmary passed by Johnny and into the kitchen. "Mr. ... C was it? Would you like to join us for lunch? I can make you a sandwich."

For a long moment, Johnny pondered the possibility of a sandwich as if it was a serious matter. He eyed Squee's sandwich suspiciously. He eyed Mrs. Satan suspiciously, letting the tension mount. He shrugged. "Okay."

After finishing the sandwich, Rosemary sat the plate on the table beside Elize. "There you are, Mr. C. Elize, dear, can I get you anything?" Though she already knew what the answer would be, asking was still the polite thing to do.

Giving his intended seat a hard look, Johnny scooted it as far from Elize as he could before sitting down across from Squee to eat the sandwich. How long had it been since he had eaten? Just a few days this time, it seemed. Usually, he would wait longer before eating again, but something about resurrection made him hungry.

"No, thank you, Rosemary." Elize's eyes moved suggestively from Todd to Pepito, whom they landed on as she continued. "I don't think you could make me the kind of sandwich that I like."

"No, I don't suppose I could." Rosemary wondered if she should ask Juan about keeping a supply of food from Hell in the house. She was drawn from her thoughts when the phone rang. "Now, who could that be?"

Silently glaring at Elize with a red gleam in his eyes, Pepito waited until his mother left to answer the living room phone before speaking in a warning tone. "Elize, I told you to back off. Can't you ever give it a rest? And don't say things like that in front of my mother."

"Geez, Pepito, you're no fun outside the bedroom." She moved her chair further from his and closer to Johnny, ignoring the later's visible cringe. "So, Todd, why does Johnny call you 'Squee'? Is it because you're so cute? When I lived, some of my nerdy friends used it that way."

Johnny let the sandwich that he had taken a few bites from fall back onto the plate before him. He could feel his hands shaking. Oh, how he wanted to kill her! That was it! He was going to stay right there until Mr. Satan came back and demand that he be assigned a different guardian!

Blushing brightly because of all the things that she had implied, some of which disturbed him greatly, Todd attempted to make it all grind to a halt. "No! He calls me that because when he asked me my name, I made a squeaky sound that sounded like 'squee' because I was afraid. I used to do that a lot." He looked down at his sandwich in embarrassment, not mentioning that sometimes he still did or that he had spent a whole year when he was twelve trying to get people to stop calling him that, only to reinforce its usage and eventually give into it himself.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Pepito continued to glare at Elize. He was well within his rights to treat her however he wished after she had disrespected him in his home with her obscene disregard for his authority. It was obvious that her main objective in that was to annoy Johnny, which in itself could be quite funny, but dragging Todd into it was going too far. He was just about to curse her horribly when his mother came back, phone in hand.

"It's for you, Todd."

Taking the phone from Mrs. Diablo, Todd slowly raised it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Squee! This is Letta. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because of the way you left work last night. That Vayowen girl said there was some kind of emergency. And I've been trying to call your cell all morning. And then I called your mother, but she didn't know who I was or who you were."

"Oh. Oh, yeah." He could tell by her tone that she wasn't telling him everything. "I left my cell phone in my locker at skool, during the whole 'cafeteria food accident' thing, so it's probably ruined. Sorry."

"It's okay. Listen, is Johnny there?"

"Yeah. How did you know that?"

"I was working at the coffee shop this morning, and Johnny was there-naked! And he was talking to someone that no one else could see. And he was ranting insanely. So, I think he might really be insane. I called Dad to tell him, and he said that Johnny had just called him to get Pepito's address. So, I knew he was coming there, and with the way he was acting ... I just thought I should warn you. Are you sure everything is alright there?"

"Naked? At the square? That's ... odd." He gave Johnny a slightly disturbed, questioning look, only to see him glare pointedly at Elize, who smiled widely. "He isn't acting ... unusual ... at the moment. Last night was just an exaggeration. He accidentally threw away some of my old stuff. It's not a big deal. Thanks for the concern, though."

"Oh. Okay. That game that you guys are always playing must be getting to me. You know, the one where you pretend he's a psycho-killer." She laughed to herself. "You'll call me if you need me?"

"Sure. Oh, Letta. I kind of caught a cold from being wet for so long after the cafeteria thing, so could you tell Brian that I'm not going to Church tomorrow? And I think I'm going to be staying at Pepito's for a while, so call me here if you need to."

"You're sick? You know Dad wouldn't mind you staying at the house for a few days. I could skip Church tomorrow too and make you some chicken soup."

As tempting as her offer was, especially when compared to staying in the house of Satan, he couldn't risk putting Letta and Brian in the same danger that almost everyone he came into contact with, until he had been separated from Shmee, had succumbed to. "Oh, that's okay. I don't want to get you guys sick, and if I'm well enough I can get rides to skool with Pepito."

"Alright. I'll call you later, I guess. Take care."

"You too. Bye." Pressing the 'end' bottom on the cordless phone, Todd placed it on the table. He was annoyed by the quiet that had fallen over the kitchen during his conversation and then confused when he noticed that everyone was staring over his head. He slowly turned around to see Mr. Diablo standing behind him in full infernal form. He bit his tongue to suppress any sounds that might force their way out.

Señor Diablo smiled in greeting, revealing four sharp fangs in place of canines. "Hello there, Todd. It has been quite some time, hasn't it? That was a very good lie. My son could learn a lot from you in that respect. You see, Pepito, how there was no hesitation, no defensiveness, no added drama or emphasis on the parts that weren't true?"

Huffing indignantly at the semi-public lecture on his lack of lying ability, Pepito looked to his father with a bored expression as Todd stammered a brief 'hello'. "Yes, Father."

Turning back around in his seat, Todd slumped down to make himself less noticeable. This was a very odd feeling. He had just been used as a positive example by _Satan_, to teach the _Antichrist_ how to tell a proper lie! Maybe it was time he reevaluated the way he lived his life ... though _that_ lie was necessary and in the best interests of others.

"Hiiii, Muffin!" Rosemary gave her husband a quick hug before she was interrupted by an impatient Johnny.

"Mr. Satan! This coat isn't _real_ in this world! And Elize is a _horrible_ guardian! I demand a refund!"

Señor Diablo's eyes narrowed slightly, but his voice remained pleasant. "Do you have a receipt?"

"Noooo."

"Then no returns, on the coat or the guardian. Besides, your torment amuses me."

"You're ... you're just so _mean_!"

"Yes. I believe we've established that. Is that your only reason for being here?" He looked to Damned Elize.

"He wanted to check on the kid." She gestured casually to Todd.

"Very well." He looked to Pepito. "I take it he is staying with us?" At his affirmation, he went back to Johnny. "I'll have you know that this house is protected by several powerful spells. If you attempt to enter without invitation, you will find yourself, once again, in Hell. If you wish to visit him during his stay, you will do so as a proper guest."

Fuming with homicidal rage, Johnny felt his hand instinctively reach for the knife attached at his belt. He held the handle tightly, consciously aware that he couldn't kill anyone there who currently deserved it, but still comforted by the familiar metal. He was being far too social today, and, of course, this was the natural outcome.

Walking to the head of the table so that everyone could easily focus their attention on him, Señor Diablo merely snapped his fingers to make a glowing scroll appear beside him in the air. On the scroll was a frozen image of the energy being from the night before, preparing to attack Johnny. Those who had yet to see it studied it closely.

"I suppose the nature of the entity known to us as 'Shmee' is pertinent to everyone here, so I will share with you what I have surmised about it purely from appearance and what I know of Johnny's experience last night. Keep in mind that this is merely educated speculation.

It seems to have a personality with emotions that are, at least in some regards, similar to the ones experienced by humans and related beings. It is deeply attached to Todd, though I do not know if this attachment is physical, or emotional, or some combination thereof. It seems to have some built up aggression towards Todd and, even more so, towards Johnny. Obviously, it feeds off of negative energy; specifically fear.

Since this being appears to be made of energy, and energy is manifest in wave formations which are perceived by humans as colors, it is possible that the outer smoke-like color of this entity works like an aura, changing colors with emotions and physical conditions. The muddy red of this 'aura' indicates an inclination toward physical or material matters. That would make sense because it was about to merge with Johnny's body. It also suggests possible anger. The orange inside the being, making up what I assume to be the actual 'body', is probably a more permanent color than the red of the aura. It may represent a desire to control others. The black leads me to believe that those organs in the middle are used for absorbing and transforming energy, possibly for sustenance. The appendages are probably used for the actual energy transference; that is, to latch on to the host.

Now, if no one has anything to add ..." He came to a stop mid-sentence, seeing Todd's raised hand. "Todd?"

"Ummm. I do think that Shmee's attachment to me has a physical component. I had this dream, and it wasn't exactly just a dream. It was ..." He repressed a shudder at the memory, but suddenly felt embarrassed at the idea of relating his 'scary' dream to a group of people who rivaled it in their scariness. "Well, anyway, in the dream, I think he attached himself to me. Later, when he started talking again, he said that I needed him, just like he needed me. And he claimed to know everything I know ... but I'm not sure if that part was true. I'm not sure if he needs me specifically, or if he just generally needs a host."

"Excellent. That is most helpful." The scroll vanished as Señor Diablo looked to Johnny and Elize. "You two are dismissed. Once again, I will be in contact if your presence is required. I suggest you do the same if you stumble across something relevant, or if you encounter the creature again."

Johnny growled to himself at Mr. Satan's arrogant domineering of the situation. _Why_ did he think he was automatically in charge just because he was the Devil? Damn him! Oh, wait. Hehe.

"Yes, my Lord." Elize rose from the table, nudging Johnny in the ribs. "Come on, Johnny. Feel like going out?"

Standing up at a leisurely pace, Johnny contemplated her question. He most definitely was not in the mood for more socializing, and Elize would probably try to make him look the fool again. On the other hand, he could kill some assholes to take out the frustration that had built up during this visit. "Yes. Let's go out."

"Bye, Nny." There was a small, almost hidden hint of fear in Todd's voice, invoked by the thought of being even closer to being alone with Satan. It was strange, and he only noticed it in rare circumstances like the one he was currently in, but even though he was in constant fear of Johnny, he also trusted the murderer to protect him from anyone else. Apparently noticing his unease, Pepito wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

"Bye, Squeegee." He narrowed his eyes at Mr. Satan, though he was still addressing Squee. "Don't sign any contracts with him. He cheats."

"I _cheat_? Do not offend my honor, waste lock!" Okay, so he cheated _sometimes_ ... when it was fun. But, it wasn't as if Johnny had traded his soul for the coat. Besides, he had been given a much more valuable offer and turned it down. Those who did not know the difference between indulgence and compulsion reaped what they sowed, and Johnny C was like a puzzle piece made specifically to fit that particular profile.

Before Johnny could argue back, Elize pulled him through the living room and out the front door.

-----------------------------------SCENE SHIFT------------------------------

Pepito took a nervous breath as he descended the stairs in his basement, pulling Todd behind him. He held his hand tightly in case he fell down, though his state was already showing signs of improvement from that morning. His father had just delegated him the task of researching and managing most of the Shmee situation, which was probably the most responsibility he had ever had. He found that a little intimidating, but he couldn't let Todd know that.

Todd looked around in confusion, and relief, at the washer and dryer, the old furniture arranged into a living room type setup to the side, and chests of stored stuffs. "Pepito, this ... is a normal basement."

"Of course. I showed you purposefully when we were younger. Normally, to reach Hell alive, you have to astral project there. Our basement has a strong connection, but Hell isn't a material place. It's more like a state of mind."

"Okay, now I'm really confused."

Releasing Todd's hand momentarily, Pepito pulled an old mattress against the back wall down to lay flat on the floor. "Sit with me."

This did nothing to lessen Todd's feeling of confusion. Shaking his head in puzzlement, he followed Pepito onto the mattress, dropping to his knees in the middle before falling back onto his butt and tucking his legs beneath him. "Stranger and stranger."

"Heh. You're not even through the looking glass yet, Amigo." Pepito sat in a similar position, facing Todd and extending his hands palms up. "Now, hold my hands."

"Kay." As he put his own hands into slightly warmer ones, Todd couldn't help but notice how nice they felt ... and how odd this was. "Are you sure this is the path to Hell?"

Pepito smirked. "This? Two guys on an old mattress holding hands?" He paused to hold the other's hands tighter, rubbing circles on the upper sides with his thumbs. "Oh yeah."

Fighting a losing battle against his growing blush, Todd rolled his eyes at the joke. "That's not exactly what I meant."

"I know. Alright, seriously, you know how everything that exists is potentially a wave or a particle ... energy or matter? Well, the spiritual is the energy side. Energy doesn't travel through the dimension of time, which is why souls are immortal for the most part. There are different ways to perceive the universe: with our more material senses or with the imagination, which has a physical counterpart ... but that's not important right now. Basically, the five senses are mostly used to perceive the matter side of reality, and the imagination, in sensitive individuals, can easily be used to perceive the spiritual side. The astral plane is the spiritual side of the universe. It's the same as the material universe, just, from a different point of view.

Because the astral plane is not contained in time, infinite possibilities exist all at once from every temporal reality, every action and thought from in every time period from every parallel universe all happening all at once. This state of Chaos means that anything one can imagine exists on the astral plane. When we imagine them, we perceive them with our creative genius. So, thoughts and feelings are translated into actions, things and places ... which are like the vibration of waves. Getting to Hell, or any other spiritual place, is a shift in perception, driven by imagination. Understand?"

"I...think so. But, how am I supposed to get to a specific place there if I don't really know what I'm looking for?"

"That's what the hands are for." Pepito have them a short squeeze for emphasis. "I can help you get there, and then we can use the All Seeing Eye to research your situation."

After his curiosity was mostly sated, Todd's fear of what they were about to do rose to the surface of his conscious again. "Do we really have to?"

"We really need to. We need to know as much about Shmee as possible."

"Alright." Todd took a deep breath, resigning himself to a scary fate. "You won't leave me alone there, right?"

"I won't. I promise. Now, relax and close your eyes. Breathe deeply, inhaling through your nose and exhaling through your mouth. When you can feel my essence in your hands, you need to wait long enough to recognize it. Envision our linked hands as a spiritual link. As long as we don't let go, the link is maintained and we will be in the same place."

Pepito continued to verbally walk Todd through the process, deeper and deeper into a meditative state, until he was ready before taking him on a short trip through the astral plane.

"Okay. You can open your eyes now ... or your astral eyes, if you will."

"Wow. This is ... " It was kind of elegant, in a dark and creepy sort of way. But, at least he didn't see anyone being horribly tortured. Actually, it didn't have much in common with the descriptions he had read about at all. "Hell?"

"Yup. In fact, this is the centro psíquico of Hell. And, you'll notice, it is neither on fire nor frozen." Pepito stood, retaining his hold on Todd's hands to pull him up as well. "Most of what is written about this place is just Christian propaganda."

He smiled at Todd's preoccupation with taking in his surroundings before gently pulling him toward the pedestal in the center of the room. "This," He released one of the hands to gesture to it. "Is the interface for the All Seeing Eye." He looked around at the mostly bare room in disappointment. "I guess Father likes to stand around in here, commanding it dramatically."

Todd watched as Pepito closed his eyes in concentration, leading a plush, black couch to materialize just behind them. He barely had time to register its presence before Pepito flopped backwards onto it; their joined hands making him do the same. He gave him a slightly awed look. This was the first time in years that he had been witness to his powers.

"That's better." Shifting to make himself comfortable, Pepito opened his free hand to receive a dark gray remote that could have belonged to a TV except for its strange buttons. An index finger pressed the power button, and a flaming, eye-shaped ball of energy flashed to life directly above the pedestal. He pressed another button, and the Eye grew foggy before clearing up to reveal a long list of names arranged by time period, then alphabetically. It looked a lot like a digital cable TV guide. "Let's seee ... I think we'll watch the 'Todd's Life Channel'."

Todd watched in interest as Pepito once again closed his eyes in concentration, and the cursor moved quickly to the correct time period, scanning through names so fast that he could not make them out as they passed. He pulled his legs onto the couch, sitting Indian styled as it finally stopped moving on his name.

"Do you remember when you got Shmee?"

"I've had him as long as I can remember."

"Humm. This might take a while then. Should we start at conception, baby shower, or birth?" They probably could have used Todd's connection to Shmee to find the information more easily, but he wasn't sure what consequences that would have. A being of energy might actually be aware of someone touching their history. What if that somehow incited Shmee to seek Todd out? What if it deepened the connection that the entity had forged?

Todd bit his lip in thought. "I doubt there was a baby shower. Maybe ... conception?" Actually, birth seemed more likely, but he didn't want to pass up the chance to gain possible insight into the reasons for his parents' hatred of him.

"Alright. Conception it is." Pepito smiled wickedly as his finger hovered over a button.

As realization dawned, Todd's eyes widened in considerable horror. "Wait!"

Pepito looked to Todd, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Not conception. Can we start when they find out about the pregnancy?"

Disappointed that his plan had failed, Pepito sighed. "Fine. Ready?"

"Yeah."

"Lights." A third of the torches lining the curved wall of the tower went out. "Interface." The Eye flashed again, and the vortex began to spin. "Eh, you know the rest."

----------------------------------ASE Broadcast---------------------------------

The scene opened on an average college dorm room, apparently shared by two young women. A pretty, young brunette sat on the twin bed on the right side of the room, hugging her legs to her body. Her head was bowed onto them, and a low sobbing could be heard.

There was a soft knock at the door.

The young woman, who looked to be eighteen or nineteen at most, looked up with big, blue eyes that were blood-shot from a lack of sleep and consistent crying. She made a visible attempt to control her breathing and wiped away her tears, leaving mascara streaks that she was unaware of, before calling out in a straggled voice. "Come in."

Almost hesitantly, the door opened to reveal a black-headed young man, who could have been a few years older than the woman. His slim glasses reflected the light that was shining through the dorm window. "I came here as soon as I hung up with you. What's wrong, Jen?"

"Wrong?"

"I can see that you've been crying."

Her hand rose to her face, as if expecting to find more tears before she realized what must have happened. "Oh." The hand fell back to her knee. "Yes. I- I have to tell you something. Mark, you should probably sit down."

His face flashed with momentary dread before he could force on a mask of compassion, which wasn't very convincing. He stepped forward to take a seat at the foot of the bed in a slight daze, running into a pile of nursing text-books, which his foot sent tumbling over, on the way.

"Remember that frat party last month? The one with the pirate theme where we both had too much to drink?"

"Yeah. What about it?"

She met his fearful, questioning gaze with a sullen expression. "I'm pregnant."

Mark instantly scooted further away from her, as if she had announced that she carried a highly infectious plague for which there was no cure. "Pregnant! Are you sure?"

At his reaction, Jennifer looked as if she might break down in tears again. She swallowed thickly before speaking. "Yes. I've taken three home-tests. They all came back positive. Then I went to the doct-doctor…" Her voice broke near the end, and the statement was followed by a few uncontrolled sobs.

"Damn." Mark examined the floral bedspread, which he seemed to find exceedingly interesting at the moment. "Well, at least it's still early. You can make an appointment at the local clinic. I have some extra money in the bank if you don't have enough."

"What?"

"If you're afraid of being recognized, I'll drive you to a clinic in another city. If you do it on a Friday, you can be back in class by Monday or Tuesday."

"Mark, I am not having an abortion! I can't!"

"No, " he sighed, "what you can't do is have a kid right now! You're a freshman in kollege! I don't have my degree yet either! What am I supposed to do? Drop out and get some blue-collar job to support a family that I never fucking wanted!"

"I don't know. I just know that I can't kill it."

"Well, fine! Then you can put it up for adoption, but what are your holy-roller parents going to think when they notice your huge stomach?"

"They said that ... that I am no longer welcome in their home. I ... I have to drop out of skool at the end of the semester or find a way to support myself by then because they won't give me anymore money."

"_What_? You _told_ them already! What the hell were you thinking? Were you _trying_ to ruin both of our lives?"

"Were you trying to ruin our lives when you convinced me to drink at that party? What about when you said that you loved me?"

"Oh! So now this is all my fault?"

Her scowl softened, and she looked down again. "No." She waited a beat before raising her head, a look of resolution on her tried features. "It's mine. I'm the one who knew better. I'm the one who knew it was wrong. You're just ..."

"Just what, Jen? What am I?"

"A nonbeliever."

He released a harsh sigh. "Don't start that crazy religious shit of yours again."

"You don't understand."

"Oh, I understand that you use self-induced delusions to cope with this big, bad life. Well, where is your God now? Are the ghosts going to pay your way through kollege? I know! Why don't you go find a fairy to wish that thing inside of you away!"

"Shut-up! Don't make fun of me, Mark. God is where he's always been. And this 'thing' is our punishment. We have to bear it with as much ... grace ... as possible. Killing it would just make matters worse."

"Punishment, Jennifer? You think God is _punishing_ us? If he wanted to punish me, he should have at least had the decency to give me a deadly STD! Then I could just die, instead of living my whole life as a miserable failure!"

"Get out! Just ... get out."

"Jen. I ... I didn't mean that. It's just ... I'm really not ready for this, and neither are you. To throw away our lives for just a few cells ... it's so stupid."

The woman lowered her head to her knees once again, letting long hair hide her face. The head jerked with sobs every few seconds.

After standing in silence for several minutes, Mark finally spoke in a flat voice. "I have a class." When he received no response, he exited the dorm room, leaving his girlfriend to her sorrow.

--------------------------------------End ASE Broadcast----------------------------

Both boys continued to stare at the Eye long after the scene ended.

Todd shifted slightly, trying to loosen Pepito's, now very tight, grip on his hand. "See what I mean about the baby shower? So not going to happen."

That seemed to pull the other out of his thoughts, and he loosed his grip a little. "You're related to a lot of assholes, Amigo."

"Yes, I am. You should meet my Grandpa Hatey."

"Hatey?"

"That's not his real name, just what everyone calls him behind his back." His tone suddenly changed from informative to slightly angry. "He ate my kitten."

Pepito's grip on his hand tightened again. "He ... _ate_ your _kitten_? Why?" Of the Eleven Rules of the Earth, harming animals for nonessential reasons was his biggest pet peeve, probably because he was so close to his dog, Woofles.

Todd cringed at the reaction. "Cause he's old and crazy. And like you said, an asshole."

"His name is Casil, right? Does he live in this city?" The All Seeing Eye flickered like a candle in a breeze as Pepito's anger nearly made him lose his concentration. "Oops. I'll ask again later." He took a moment to calm down, and the Eye soon regained stability. "Okay, let's fast forward a bit."

-------------------------------------ASE Broadcast------------------------------

An obviously pregnant Jennifer sat in a church pew, half way back from the front, on the far right of the nearly empty church. A statue of the Virgin Marry stood directly to her left, facing the pews. She stared at it wistfully as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"May I help you, my child?"

Jennifer jumped at the gentle voice that was suddenly so close before turning swiftly to see a salt and pepper-haired priest with soft, gray eyes sitting by her side. "I-uh. Where did you come from?"

"Oh, I'm here quite frequently. This was my parish before my ... retirement. You look like you could use an ear, and though my hearing's not what it used to be, mine is yours for the talking."

Placing a hand on her swollen belly, she looked down shamefully. "I just got married two weeks ago."

The priest nodded in understanding. "Have you confessed this, my dear?"

"Yes."

"Then I'm sure that the Lord has forgiven you."

More tears fell from her eyes, and she hiccuped. "I'm not so sure."

"What makes you say that?"

"I think there's something wrong with the baby. More wrong than what's wrong with me."

"And what would that be?" he asked patiently.

"I ... sometimes I see things ... things that other people don't see ... things that human beings aren't meant to see: solid shadows, shining beings, people who radiate color. I hear echoes of pasts that I didn't know existed. It used to happen at times when I was a kid, but my parents told me that it was wrong, and I was afraid of it. So, I taught myself to ignore it, and it worked, mostly ... until the pregnancy. I can't make it stop anymore. It seems like every day it gets worse. I think that God is punishing me."

"I highly doubt that. Of course, the pregnancy is a natural result of your sin, and it is God's will. As for the rest, I have seen cases such as yours before. Some people do see such things, and, when they do, their children are more likely to see them as well, suggesting that such abilities are genetic. Perhaps the child you carry possesses that same trait, which it obviously lacks control of at this stage, and that is making the abilities stronger in you while you carry it."

"It still sounds like a punishment to me. Why would God create such a trait in humans?"

"God's reasons are not for us to question or to know. I do not know why  
God, in his infinite wisdom, allowed this trait to enter the human gene pool. I do, however, have a theory as to how it happened. Are you familiar with Genesis 6:1-4?"

"You'll have to remind me."

"'When men began to multiply on earth and daughters were born to them, the sons of heaven saw how beautiful the daughters of man were, and so they took for their wives as many of them as they chose. Then the Lord said: "My spirit shall not remain in man forever, since he is but flesh. His days shall comprise one hundred and twenty years." At that time the Nephilim appeared on earth, as well as later, after the sons of heaven had intercourse with the daughters of man, who bore them sons. They were the heroes of old, men of renown.'" After the quote, the priest paused momentarily for effect before continuing.

"Now, in the Old Testament, the phrase "sons of God" consistently refers to Angels. Though Matthew 22:30 indicates that angels _do not _marry, just as at the resurrection people will neither marry nor be given in marriage, it does not say that angels _cannot_ marry. It is also referring to the angels in Heaven, not the fallen angels that the origin of the Hebrew of 'Nephilim' would imply.

In the apocryphal Book of Enoch, and also Jubilees, the origin of the Nephilim is connected with fallen angels, particularly with the Grigori or Watchers, who were assigned to observe the humans after the original fall. It is said that a high-ranking angel, Samyaza, lead a sect of rebel angels to earth, where they taught humans righteousness for centuries. Eventually, these angels were drawn to some human women, whom they instructed in the forbidden arts of magic and conjuring. The result of their mating was the Nephilim, who inherited some angelic abilities from their fathers. Though the generations of Noah's ancestors were 'pure' of Nephilim infiltration, for which God spared him from the flood used to clean the Earth of the Nephilim, it seems probable that his daughter-in-laws were not. Furthermore, some of the Nephilim were allowed to roam the earth, tempting men and women, until the Last Judgment.

I have come to believe that such traits as you have described are a result of the mixing human genes with those of the fallen Watchers."

Jennifer continued to stare at the priest with hollow eyes. "You mean, I ... you think that I'm ..."

"That you are descended from the Watchers, yes."

"But, my parents are normal."

"Sometimes these things skip a generation. The trait is probably recessive, and it has probably dissipated in much of the human population over such a long period of time."

"No. I can't be what you say." She looked away from the priest, to the  
Virgin. "I don't believe you."

"Believe what gives you comfort, my dear, but, to me, your kind shine like a strobe light in absolute darkness. This ability, this child, doesn't have to be a curse. It could be a blessing, if you make it one. After all, our own Lord, Jesus Christ, was born of a woman and the Spirit."

Her hand instinctively went back to her stomach. "But, I don't want it." She looked back to the other, but was surprised to find no one there.

-------------------------------End ASE Broadcast-------------------------------

There was more silence, lasting longer this time. Pepito unconsciously moved closer to Todd so that their legs were touching before speaking in a soft voice. "Amigo, are you okay?"

Retaining a shocked look, and having yet to really digest the information, Todd spoke carefully. "He was ..."

"A ghost."

"So my mother has the same ... issues as me. Do you think his theory is true?"

"I ... It would make sense ... well, perhaps a modified version of it. It would explain a lot about you. Would you be upset if it were true?"

"I ... don't know. That would mean that everyone who can see this stuff would have the same trait, right?" Even though he knew it was silly, there was a strange kind of comfort in knowing that he wasn't the only one, and that maybe there was some sort of reason for the way his life had been.

"Perhaps. I think I should have a talk with Father about this. It could be relevant."

"Okay."

"Are you alright to continue?"

"Yeah. Sorry. I'm paying attention now."

Pepito breathed a sigh of relief. At least Todd didn't appear to be anywhere near as traumatized by what they had just witnessed as his mother had been. He used their linked hands to pull Todd even closer, wishing he could break the link to put his arm around his shoulders, before deciding to skip to the next most likely scene.

-----------------------------------ASE Broadcast------------------------------

The scene opened on Jennifer Casil in a sterile, white delivery room. She was lying down with her legs locked in holsters on each side of the bed. Her face was red and bloated from water retention and, once again, streaked with tears, this time obviously from pain. A nurse in a blue uniform injected her with something, probably a painkiller.

Mark stood at the foot of the bed with a video camera and a disgusted look on his face. When a doctor told his wife to push, he nearly passed out, definitely not finding anything 'graceful' about 'bearing' their burden.

"Congratulations, it's a boy. Mr. Casil, would you like to cut the cord?"

"Thanks, but I'll pass."

The doctor looked slightly taken aback, but seemed to chalk it up to an uneasy stomach, despite the harsh tone. After performing the task himself, he handed the newborn over to the nurse and left for his next appointment.

When the baby was finally placed in Jennifer's arms, she looked down at him in slight confusion. His eyes were a deep blue, like most Caucasian newborns, though his skin was somewhat darker than hers because of his father's partial Native American heritage and a tuft of soft brown hair covered his head. Her hand moved his blanket aside for a moment as if to make sure he wasn't hideously deformed. She released a relieved sigh, and began to withdraw when the baby reached out a tiny hand to hold her finger. For a moment Jennifer's eyes widened in fear, but when nothing bad happened she gave him a dopey smile. "Todd. His name is Todd. Todd Michael Casil." As the nurse took down the name, she continued to talk to the baby in a hushed voice. "You're not a monster after all, are you? You're just ... different. Like me."

Pepito sped through the parts in which Todd was not with his mother, though he was still on the lookout for the bear. Though Mark displayed a complete lack of interest in their baby, Jennifer and Todd seemed to form a bond during the first two days at the hospital. And then it happened.

A tall, decrepit nurse with a slumped posture that made her look as if she were carrying a bag full of stones entered their hospital room. She pushed a cart with trays of food up to the bed before quickly unloading Jennifer's meal. She looked down at the baby in the nearby crib. "_I_ had a son once, but he died in a hideous implosion."

Jennifer looked up from a book she was reading, into the gleaming, reflective lenses of the gray-haired older woman. "Oh! I'm so sorry."

"Yes, well, that's the way things go, isn't it?"

"I ... ummm ... hope not."

"No hope. Only doom. You'll see."

"Oh."

The nurse turned to go, but stopped beside the crib of the sleeping Todd. "Almost forgot. Randomly selected children have been issued one stuffed bear by the hospital." She dropped a new, brown bear with a large smile and one tooth into the crib.

-------------------------------------End ASE Broadcast-----------------------------

Pepito paused the screen. He rewound the last bit and played it again. "Miss Bitters? _She_ gave you Shmee?"

"And now she's my teacher again. What do you make of that?"

"She only transferred to the high skool this year. They're working together somehow. But why? And why you? That was ... more intentional that I expected. How would they know about your ... genetics?"

Todd slowly shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe ... this really is going to sound crazy, but maybe there's some kind of group that has been around for long enough to find people like me and wait for them to have children. But why would they help Shmee? Is he the only one? He didn't seem to have any interaction with anyone else when we were together. But ... I guess he could have done something like we're doing now?"

"I don't think so. Father thinks that he was trapped in that body until Johnny destroyed it. And since he is made of energy, like a soul, there wouldn't be a difference between astral projection and actually leaving the body completely."

"Oh. Oh, yeah."

"There may be a group, but if he couldn't leave the body, why would they help him? And how did he get fused with the bear to begin with?" Pepito sighed loudly. "So many questions. I think we need to subdue Bitters."

Todd gave him an unsure look. "Subdue Bitters? How?"

"Come on, Squee. Do I really have to say it?"

"Yes." He had to force back a humorous smile. "Pleease?"

"With my super Satanic powers, because ... this is a job for the Antichrist!" Todd erupted in laughter and after a few moments, Pepito joined him. "Are you happy now?"

"Yes. I think we're still going to need a plan, though. You know, because from what I remember, your adventures tend to end in death. And dead people are hard to question."

"Todd, think about where we are right now. Where else would Bitters go?"

"I don't know, but if she is associated with Shmee, couldn't it be possible that she has some alternative?"

"It's unlikely, but fine. We'll take her alive. So, are we done here?"

"I guess. But ... do you think we could look at something from a few weeks after my birth? Just ... to see if Shmee's really what made things ... the way they are."

"Yes, but ... you're sure you wanna see that?"

"Uh-huh."

"Okay. Let's try a month."

---------------------------------------ASE Broadcast------------------------------

A middle-aged woman in a dark purple dress suit sat behind a wooden desk, looking across it at the couple occupying two chairs. Both Jennifer and Mark appeared fatigued: dark circles lined their eyes. Jennifer shook from too much caffeine and too little sleep

The woman adjusted small, round specs on her eyes, glancing over their paper work on her clipboard. "So, Mr. Casil. You say that your wife is suffering from what you believe to be postpartum depression?"

Mark looked irritably from his wife to the councilor. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do."

"Would you mind giving me a more detailed description of her symptoms?"

"She doesn't sleep, she's miserable and she's afraid of the baby."

The councilor gave him a disappointed look before looking quickly back to the file and turning to his wife. "Mrs. Casil ... Jennifer, could you tell me how you feel about your new ... son, was it?"

Jennifer raised her head to stare at her with crazed eyes. "Yes, Todd is a boy."

Mark rolled his eyes at her short and dazed response. "Would you just tell her already, so we can get this over with?"

"Mr. Casil, please be patient. Situations like these are never easy for the mother. Now, Jennifer, how do you feel about your son? Do you enjoy spending time with him?"

Jennifer slowly shook her head in the negative. "Something is wrong with him. He ... they're always near him, around his crib, on the street when I take him out in the stroller. I hate being around him, because I know they'll be there, and the way he looks at me ... he can see them too."

The older woman's brow rose in worried confusion at this information. "They? Who are 'they', Jennifer? What do you mean, 'he can see them too'? Is this something that only you and your son can see? Are 'they' out to hurt him?"

"I ... I don't know. Different things, I think. They appear in different forms. Some of them are more scary that others. Some of them are like the things I used to see as a child, but some of them are new ... worse. Other people, most other people, can't see them. Mark thinks I'm crazy. That's why he brought me here. My parents ... they told me when I was young that those things come from the Devil ..."

"I see. So, you've seen these kinds of things since you were a child?"

"Yes. But, I was able to stop seeing them, for the most part, until the pregnancy. Even then, there weren't as many of them, and they weren't as frightening as after we brought Todd home."

"And why do you think that is?"

"I think that he attracts them. He gives them power or something,"

"So you don't think they want to hurt him?"

"N-no. I don't think so. They're hardly ever aggressive toward him. It's almost as if they like him or consider him to be one of them or something. It's ... unnatural."

"Mrs. Casil, have you ever been diagnosed with bipolar disorder or schizophrenia?"

"No."

"Is there a history of any psychotic disorder in your family?"

"Not that I know of."

"Okay. If neither of you have anything else to add, I'm going to refer you to a psychiatrist who is qualified to diagnose cases like yours. From what you've told me, this sounds more like postpartum psychosis than postpartum depression. Postpartum psychosis is treated as a medical emergency because of the risk to both mother and child, so I highly suggest that you do everything in your power to resolve this as soon as possible." The councilor took a moment to look up a number in her computer before passing it over to Mr. Casil. "Here. Call this number tomorrow morning to setup an appointment. The doctor will already be familiar with your case by then."

Mark pocketed the paper, sporting an oddly gleeful smile. "Will they take the baby away?"

"Excuse me?"

"The baby. Will they take it away? You heard what she said. She's clearly not fit to raise a child."

"Not to worry, Mr. Casil. I'm sure that is a last precaution. The doctor will probably prescribe some anti-psychotics and anti-stress medication. Most women who experience postpartum psychosis recover and raise healthy enough children."

"Damn it! Fine! Let's go." Mark guided Jennifer out the office door with his hand on her back a little too forcefully, letting it slam behind them.

--------------------------------------End ASE Broadcast------------------------------

The All Seeing Eye once again clouded over.

"Alright, Amigo. I think that's about all we need for now."

"But, Pepi ..."

"No, Todd. You've seen enough of those uncaring morons, and if I have to keep watching them, I'm going to kill them in a very slow and painful way, which I would rather not do because I don't know what the social system would do with you."

Todd sighed. "Alright."

A brief silence ensued before Pepito broke it in a small bout of anger. "Why in the name of all things unholy didn't they ever try taking the bear away?"

Casting his gaze down, Todd answered in a soft tone. "Because it kept me occupied so I didn't bother them as much. I'm kind of ... glad they didn't though. Then I really would have been alone."

Pepito gave the hand he was holding a little squeeze. "Don't be sad, Squee. They don't deserve you. And neither does Shmee. You don't need them. Pretty soon things will be different."

"Thanks, I think. But I'm fine. I've known that they hate me for a long time. It's actually kind of nice to know why." Todd raised his head to shoot Pepito a weak smile before continuing in a more upbeat voice. "So, what now?"

"Now, we have a sleepover that contains lots of science fiction and even more snacks. I still owe you ice cream."

* * *

END CHAPTER!

Notes:

-"At least once more, as always." is a quote from Pirates of the Caribbean.

-The Wuv Bears thing was inspired by Pepito's shirt in JHTM, when his mother was buying a book in Devi's store ... I think on children with behavior problems. The shirt had a bear on it and said "WUV". In this story, it kind of like Care Bears.

-The Eleven Satanic Rules of the Earth belong to the Church of Satan. I wasn't intending to have much theology/religious philosophy in this fic at all, but the larger a role Pepito has, the more it's going to be there. Plus, Johnny died, so Senor Diablo is involved. I think the most natural religion for them is Satanism, so I did some research on Modern Satanism (Church of Satan (pluse reading the Satanic Bible), First Church of Satan and several Theistic Satanist groups) as well as more traditional and historical forms, parodies of Satanic cults, etc. I'll cite any direct references, but some of it will pop up in their general approach to life without direct reference. This is where it could be interpreted as offensive (to Satanists) because I also have some cliché horror movie stuff mixed in, as well as ideas from some Christian writers and cosmological stuff from eastern and pagan religions. Probably, some people won't know the difference. I apologize in advance, but really, Anton LeVay claims to have helped make Rosemary's Baby, and if this is offensive, that should be too.  
Modern Satanic Influences in this ch:  
-Mr. Satan's thoughts about the moral difference between indulgence (seen as healthy) and compulsion (seen as unhealthy and weak)  
-Pepito's thoughts about Elize, in relation to how guest should be respectful in another's lair, and if they're not, they should be destroyed. Obviously his thoughts on killing aniamals and the rules of the Earth.

-The explanation of astral projection is a mixture of physics, Starhawk's concept of "starlight vision", William Blake's beliefs about the nature of the imagination and probably a few other things I've picked up over time. Oh, and astral projection here is based on the "phasing model" as opposed to the "separation model".

-Quote of Genesis 6:1-4 is from the New American Bible.

-The origin of the Nephilim: www. gotquestions. org/sons-of-God. html (remove spaces after periods).

-Todd's dad having some Native heritage is based on his last name. "Casil" is a Native American name of a tribe that live in Southern California (Santa Barbra area) as described by old Spanish missionary records.


	10. Chapter 10

**Sublime Awakenings Chapter Ten: Confluence**

**

* * *

**Warnings: suicide, mentions of rape, vicious plotting and indirect violence, lewd comments and sexual innuendo

* * *

"Zim! _Zim_! Ziiimmm!" Dib paused to catch his breath before continuing to bang on the front door. He gave the men's restroom sign on said door a hard glare, knowing that Zim knew the symbol's meaning by now, but chose to leave the ridiculous thing up as a way of rubbing the blindness of his fellow humans in his face. "I know you're in there! Open up, Alien Scum!"

On the other side of the door, GIR tried his best to ignore the loud drumming. When, after twenty minutes, 'The Scary Monkey Show' ended, he finally turned off the TV. He dropped the remote onto the couch cushion, tilting his head slightly. "I think somebody's at da' door! You stay here, pig!"

The small robot stood, fired his boosters, leaving two scorch marks on the couch, and sailed through the air to land near the door before quickly slipping into his green doggie custom to answer the it. He jerked the door open rather swiftly, letting the boy with the big, puppy-smelling head fall onto the floor in front of him. "Hi Mary! Are you here to chase my master?"

Bracing one hand on the floor, Dib pushed himself up, lifting his now sore face to address Zim's evil robot-dog thingie. "Don't call me Mary." The sentence was almost as reflexive as 'My head's not big.' by now. GIR had been calling him that occasionally since he had briefly stopped chasing Zim to study 'real science'. "Why _do_ you call me that anyway?"

"Cause you's just like dat guy on TV. He's always over at dat other guy's house, even when he's not spose ta' be cause deys in love! And sometimes people calls him Mary cause he's gay!" The robot stopped his high-pitched, excited explanation to tilt his head to the side in thought. "What is gay?"

Dib glowered down at him. "Gay means happy, GIR, something that I am definitely not whenever I'm around Zim. Do you understand?"

"I really don't!"

He let out a harsh sigh. "Do you know where Zim is?"

Looking from side to side, unsure of the answer, GIR released a long, drawn out 'Umm' before finally staring directly at him with big, cyan eyes. "He's in the lab workin! He's workin' sooo harrddd. Too hard for muffins! _You_ wanna make muffins?"

"Working? What's he working on?"

"I ... don't know. Somethin' about a soufflé. He said ... ummm …' an evil soufflé needs time to rise' ... or somethin'. I'm not allowed to help make the soufflé, but we can still make muffins! Let's make muffins! _Let's make muffins_!"

Dib sighed shortly in irritation, but moved on immediately, being well acquainted with Gir's mentality. "Okay. I'm going down there." He waited a beat to make sure that the dysfunctional robot wasn't going to go into spontaneous duty mood. When Gir simply shrugged and returned to the couch, taking a seat beside an actual pig, he opened the fridge and watched the interior shelves retract into the wall, exposing one of the many lifts down to Zim's underground base.

When he reached the main lab, he followed the sound of Zim's humming to the main console to find the undisguised Irken reclining in a crescent-shaped, hovering chair facing a large computer screen. A small floating moose hovered at his side.

"Doo-dee-doo-dee-doo ... Com-put-ter! Analysis status."

"In progress. Analysis completion in five Earth minutes."

"Excellent." Leaning forward, Zim began typing more notes into the interface.

Leisurely walking up behind the chair, Dib gave a relaxed greeting. "Hey."

"Oh, hey Dib." Zim responded in a causal tone, as if having the Dib in his base was a routine occurrence, which at this point it was. He continued his work for several seconds before coming to a sudden halt. "Wait! Dib! What are you doing in Zim's base?" He spun the hovering chair around to bring them face to face.

"Oh, I ... uh ... just thought I'd stop by and see what you were doing." Truthfully, he wasn't really sure why he was there. He had gone for a walk without any real destination in mind after being insulted by his family. After a while, he came to a stop and just happened to be at Zim's house. He realized that he had made the trip so many times that his body must have taken him there automatically. "Besides, we ... should probably be doing something about the Bitters situation, right?"

"Eh. I suppose. But you do not simply come traipsing into Zim's base with your touchy, germ-riddled hands!"

"Zim … I do it all the time. And Gir let me in."

"Computer, check the Dib-thing for spying devices!"

"Processing."

A panel in the wall slid open to make way for a smooth, half-circle shaped scanning device that emitted a beam that was not visible to the human eye, though Zim's amazing ocular lenses could have picked it up, had they been on the right setting. The beam passed over the Dib.

"_Processing_. Presence confirmed: one digital camera, one audio recorder."

A semitransparent image of the human appeared on one of several floating computer screens, highlighting the detected objects, making Zim smirk. "Relieve the Earth-creature of these things immediately."

A robotic arm shot out from the ceiling, latching onto Dib's leg, lifting him upside down by it and shaking him vigorously.

"Hey! Knock it off! This is completely uncalled for!" Dib tried to stop some of his stuff from falling out of the compartments in his trench coat, but his shirt was falling as well, and he had to make due with holding it up. He grunted in irritation, hearing numerous items hitting the metal floor.

Zim smiled a zippered smile, watching Dib struggle as the blood ran to his head. He was a little disappointed when the computer finally extended another arm to unbutton a secret pocket on the inside of the coat, retrieving what it was searching for before dropping the Dib roughly to the floor of his beautiful base.

"Ouch!" Dib rubbed his pained head, which had collided with the floor when he was dropped into the small pile of his stuff. "You jerk! You know those are just basic things that I always have with me. Besides, we're in a truce right now."

"As a term of truce, you can't have spying equipment in my base. Besides, that was funny."

"You can't add terms after the fact, Zim." Standing slowly, Dib pulled his shirt down firmly before dusting himself off, even though Zim's base was impeccably clean in the places Gir hadn't recently been.

"Foolish Dirt-child, your presence in Zim's base was never a term either. You should be _honored_ to be allowed into the mighty Zim-base of Zim!"

"Fine. Whatever." Dib sighed deeply yet again. While a part of him enjoyed their small reprieve from official rivalry, another part wanted to hurry up and get it over with so that he might rededicate himself to defeating the alien for good. Did he really want to waste his entire life thwarting ridiculous plans and trying to hide or suppress parts of his humanity that Zim might consider a weakness to be exploited? Then again, he couldn't really imagine life without their games. He had spent so much time living to save his people that going back to a more mundane life just seemed empty. And in a twisted sort of way, Zim had become almost as much a friend as an enemy. Just as he was becoming lost in these thoughts, his attention was caught when the computer made another announcement.

"Analysis complete." The computer went on to apathetically emit a long list of normal components one would expect to find in food, as well as quite a few that shouldn't have been there, yet did nothing to explain the odd behavior of the cafeteria food. "Substance also contains traces of an anaphasic radiation not unlike that belonging to the Meekrob."

"Eh?" Zim's eyes darkened slightly. "The Veelob have infiltrated the skool!"

"What?"

"That ... 'green' monstrosity. The Veelob were behind it!"

"Ohh! That makes sense ... kind of. But what would they have to gain from attacking the skool when they're supposed to be doing research? He raised a brow as the moose hovered near Zim's head, emitting a few squeaks.

"That is true, MiniMoose. The attack could have been part of the research. Maybe they wanted to test the effects of mass hysteria or something."

"How can you understand that thing? All it does is squeak." Something about the way Zim talked to the animal-balloon looking minion, receiving answers that only he could understand, reminded Dib of something else. Some_one_ else. Squee, before the two were really friends, maybe even the first time they had meet. He couldn't have been more than ten. He was sitting the a corner of the game room at the institute, playing cards with, and talking to, his stuffed bear. Dib had assumed that he was simply batty like most of the residences at the institution, but since he was bored out of his mind, he decided investigating the bear for possible possession couldn't hurt. That hadn't exactly worked out well for him, as Squee had been very protective of Shmee. Shmee. _Shmee_!

"It only _sounds_ like mere squeaking to your inferior huuman brain, Dib-monkey." The invader paused at the Dib's frightened, shocked look. One crimson eye narrowed in question. "Hey, what's wrong with you?"

"Shmee."

"What? Is this like that 'who' nonsense?"

"Squee used to have a teddy bear named Shmee. Shmee is Miss Bitters' password to the skool's computer system. That has to mean ... _something_! But what?" He quickly looked up Pepito's number on his communicator, only to have the cell-phone go straight to voice mail. "Damn. I'm gonna have to go over there. Are you coming?"

"Coming? Zim? So that you can break our truce by exposing me to the squeaky-kid!"

"I'm not trying to expose you right now, Zim. Besides, Squee already knows you're an alien. So does Gaz. They just don't care because they think you're a moron."

"Lies! Zim is a genius! Gen-ius!"

"O-kay. Sure. Well, I'm gonna go now. I won't mention that you're an alien."

"Wait on Zim, filthy human! I have to be there to defend my status as a perfectly normal, human worm-baby!" And to make sure the Dib didn't withhold any possible intelligence from him.

"But, you just said that-"

"Do not question Zim! Let's go." He grabbed his forearm roughly, leading him to the elevator, as was his usual method of throwing the Dib out as of late.

-----------------------------------SCENE SHIFT----------------------------

Pepito balanced a plethora of snack stuffs with one arm to open his bedroom door for Todd, who had only been allowed to carry a bag of Fiery Nachos. "Let's just put the snacks on my desk for now."

Stepping into the room, Todd slowly took in his surroundings. The wall was a dark shade of blue. Most of the furnishings were dark shades of gray, purple and blue as well, though there wasn't much actual black, which was odd since he had assumed that black was Pepito's favorite color. Only the entertainment system directly in front of the bed and the plaid strips on the comforter were a true black. Aside from a few candles, there weren't many occult instruments in sight either.

Pepito sidestepped him, depositing his load beside his computer, on the desk in the back, left corner of his room. "Not what you expected?"

"Not quite. I thought you would have a Wuv Bear bed spread." He smirked lightly at Pepito as he approached with a fake glare, taking the chips from his grasp.

"Silence, mortal." Pressing his palm to Todd's chest with just enough force, Pepito pushed him onto the bed just behind him, tossing the bag of chips onto it as well, before making his way to the closet. "Let us not speak of this 'Wuv Bear' nonsense again." When he didn't receive a smart comeback, he glanced over his shoulder at the other, who was lying on his bed, propped up by his right elbow, giving him a pouty look. Pepito allowed his glance to linger only slightly before he opened the closet.

Just as Todd looked away to eye the books on Pepito's shelf, he was pelted in the chest with a soft something. When he looked down to see what it was he couldn't help letting a huge smile envelop his lips. He sat up fully so that he could use the right hand to pick up a light pink Wuv Bear with a rainbow across its chest. He bit his tongue lightly to stop the small bouts of laughter that were escaping him.

Pepito smirked at the clothes and assorted objects in the front of his closet, searching for sleeping clothes for them both. "The bed spread is in the wash."

"Oh ..."

The smirk grew. His father could take _that_! He could tell a decent lie sometimes. "I'm joking." He turned around, having found acceptable garments, nudging the closet door closed with his foot.

"I knew that," Todd lied.

"Mother sometimes gets a little too caught up in her nostalgia of my childhood." He gestured to the bear. "This may be of use to us with Shmee if we can't kill him. Unless, of course, you want it."

"Uh, no thanks."

Pepito took a seat on the foot of his bed beside Todd. "Too soon for another bear?"

"Something like that. I think if I _ever_ get another bear it will be too soon."

"Now, Todd. They're not _all_ possessed by mysterious energy beings out to feed off your fear."

"Uh-huh." Todd narrowed his eyes at the bear in mock suspicion before letting in fall to the bed beside him.

Pepito gave his paranoid expression a short laugh, holding out a pair of dark blue, cotton sleeping pants with an elastic waistband and an over-sized black t-shirt that he had selected. "Anyway, I found you some clothes to sleep in."

"Can't I just sleep in Dib's clothes?" He had to fight back a blush and a strange feeling in his stomach at the thought of Pepito helping him change again. This time he would be taking the clothes off, which promised to be even more awkward. Then again, he did kind of need to pee. And a bath probably wouldn't hurt either. "Uhg. Never mind. I guess I should change. And ... I guess I should just come right out and ask for help this time."

Putting all of the clothes aside, Pepito smiled teasingly. "Good choice." His smile widened at Todd's blush. "Raise your arms, please."

Todd looked the other way, biting the inside of his gum and trying not to laugh at his own embarrassment or return the smile. At least after this he could wear some pants that he wouldn't need help with. As he raised his arms, he felt Pepito push him back onto the bed a little before practically climbing on top of him. He quickly turned his head to come face to face with Pepito, who was on his knees with one leg on either side of his own. His smile was almost challenging now. Todd narrowed his eyes half playfully. He wasn't really sure whether he would win this game by playing along or taking offense. "Is that really necessary?"

"Of course! You disapprove of my methods?" Pepito slipped the hem of Todd's borrowed shirt between his pinkies and ring fingers, letting the rest of his hands gild across skin as he pushed the shirt up his chest.

"Umm. What kind of methods _are_ they exactly?" This was definitely unnecessary.

Pepito pulled the shirt over Todd's head, leaving his arms in the sleeves and letting the collar take residence behind his neck. "The payback kind." Suddenly, his hands returned to Todd's chest, tickling his tummy and sides mercilessly.

"Ahh! No! Haha!" Todd fell back onto the bed completely in a vain attempt to escape the hands. He used his good, right hand to capture Pepito's left, but it ended up working against him when Pepito simply pinned that hand to the bed and continued to tickle him with the other. "Stop! It … ha ... isn't … haha ... fair!"

Laughing along with him, Pepito continued his torture. "Shhhh. You're very loud, Todd. My mother is going to hear you and get the wrong idea."

"Then you should ... ha ha ... stop ... because ... ha ... I can't ... help it ... haha ha-AHHH!" Todd gave a particularly loud yelp before squirming more vigorously when Pepito found an especially ticklish spot on his hip. "Ha ha ... oh god ... don't do that!"

"What, this?" Pepito repeated his previous motion, moving a short fingernail very lightly in a figure eight.

"Yes!"

"Yes?"

"No! Haha … Stop!"

"Stop what?"

"Stop ... haha… now!"

"Noooo. 'Now' isn't the magic word." Pepito slowed down his tickling long enough for him to speak "the magic word".

"Oh, you suck!" As soon as the hasty words were spoken, Pepito was tickling again. "Ah! Hah!"

"That could be arranged, but only if you say 'please'."

"Haha ... you're terrible ... ha." Todd shook his head as if renouncing the word 'please', which he wanted to say even less now, even though he was laughing so hard that it was getting difficult to breathe.

"And you're turning red."

"Hehheheh … cause I need ... air ... heh haa ... stop it!" This was it. He was going to have to say it, not because of his need for oxygen, but because needing to pee and being tickled don't go together too well. "Okay ... haha ... okay ... please stop. _Please_!"

Pepito's hand came to an abrupt stop at the second 'please', though he was a little disappointed that he had to stop. He had seen Todd smile all too rarely recently.

When the tickling finally halted, Todd let out a relieved sigh, throwing his head back to stare at the ceiling as he took several deep breaths. "Thanks for stopping."

"But of course. I'm a man of my word, you know."

"Are you?" He paused to take another deep breath. "I wonder why."

"Well, I am with you anyway. And not just because I'm a bad liar." Pepito leaned closer to his face, intent upon reversing its progress back to a pale color. "I would never lie to you, Amigo. In fact, didn't we just come to some agreement about me sucking?"

Todd's eyes widened comically as the hand that had been tickling him traveled down his midsection to unbutton his pants. Of course, he did _need _them unbuttoned, so he just continued to stare into Pepito's eyes, disbelieving, until he felt them also being slowly unzipped. "Pepito!"

"Pepito!"

They both froze, exchanging a brief look of shock at the echo of Todd's chastisement, and then Pepito quickly rolled off of him to sit up. The echo had come from his mother, who was standing in his doorway with Dib and Zim. His eyes narrowed slightly. "Dib." It would be Dib! "Didn't I tell you to call first? And whatever happened to knocking?" His eyes landed on Zim, who still had a three-fingered, gloved hand on the doorknob.

Dib looked down, at his feet, in stupefied embarrassment. _Why_ did he _always_ get blamed for things that were really Zim's fault? He had told him to knock! Not that he had expected anything like this. "Uh, sorry. I tried to call, but your phone was off. I, umm, we … we can come back later."

Zim felt a sickly quiver in the most gelatinous parts of his squeedly spooch. He had to chock down the little sicky noises that wanted so badly to leave his noise tube. Why did humans have to be so ... sexual? "Yes. We will come back. Carry on with your disgusting hyuman mating rituals ... that I too enjoy ... because I'm human ... human Zim. Yep." He quickly jerked his hand away from the doorknob, just realizing that it was infected with filthy human germs before spinning around on his heel in preparation to make a swift departure. "Let's go, Dib." His voice dropped low enough for only Dib to hear. "I think I'm going to need the bucket yet again."

As the uninvited visitors turned to go, Todd quickly sat up, forcing his hands from his red face against his own will. "Wait! You don't have to go. This isn't a mating ritual. This is ... something that's not a mating ritual. And now it's over."

Zim eyed the Squeak's unbuttoned pants skeptically. He was even more disturbed that his undergarments appeared to be covered in small images bearing a startling resemblance to his own species.

Pepito sighed. "Just get in here and close the door. Mother, could you excuse us, please?"

"Uh, sure sweetie." Rosemary fidgeted with her hands, clasping and unclasping them several times. "You do remember that little talk we had last year about safe sex, right? And your father said he was going to speak with you about it as well."

"Yes, Mother. I know all about it."

"Well, alright then. I'll just go back downstairs. Just remember that your door _does_ have a lock." With that, she retreated into the hall and down the stairs. Maybe she would pick Pepito up some brochures and condoms from work, just in case.

"It wasn't a mating ritual!" Todd's voice followed her down the stairs. He huffed in irritation as the Dib and Zim stepped into the room, closing the door behind them. "It wasn't." He sent a glare Pepito's way when he laughed at what he obviously considered an overreaction.

"Yes, yes. Whatever. The Almighty Zim doesn't want to hear about it. Just button your feeble plant-based leg coverings, and we will pretend this never happened."

"Yeah, well, I can't really button them." Todd reached behind Pepito to retrieve the sleeping clothes. "Look, I'll be right back." Standing, he made his way to the bathroom attached to Pepito's bedroom as fast as he could without letting the jeans fall to the ground around his legs.

"Wait!" Pepito jumped up to follow him. "I haven't Squee-proofed the bathroom yet!"

As Pepito forced his way into his bathroom, much to the Squeak's displeasure, Zim crossed his arms over his chest in impatience. He glared at the Dib. "You're going to pay for this, Dib-human."

"I know, Zim. I know. I hope you see the importance of knocking now, at least."

Zim was about to make some retort about how he, being Zim, should not have to knock and about how the pig-smelly beasts should be less disgusting when he was distracted by the other humans again.

"Get out, Pepito! Geez!"

Pepito stumbled backwards, out of the bathroom, with several razors and a few electrical appliances in hand. A black, long sleeved shirt flew through the air, from the open bathroom door, to land roughly in his arms. It was shortly followed by a pair of jeans before the door slammed shut and a lock clicked into place. Pepito took a few steps closer to the door, yelling into it, "Sorry, Amigo!" His only answer was the sound of the shower running.

Zim gave Dib an unimpressed look. "Congratulations, Earth-boy, you found some humans crazier than you are. What are we doing here again?"

Looking down at him, Dib rolled his eyes. "You know why we're here, Zim. And I thought you said I _wasn't_ crazy."

"_Or_ you're just so crazy that you _thought_ I said you're not crazy." Zim gave him a smug, closed mouthed smile that failed at being honest.

Dib seemed to consider this for a moment. It was an unlikely event to have transpired. "No. I'm pretty sure it happened."

Pepito made his way to the closet, once again, where he deposited the razors and appliances that Todd might use to have another 'accident' before turning to his guests. "Hey, Dib? Do you want these clothes back now or should I get Mother to wash them first?"

"I guess you can wash them. I didn't come in my rover, and I didn't bring a bag, so ... yeah. Thanks."

"No problem." He threw the clothes in the direction of his bathroom, where his hamper resided. "Nice taste in underwear, by the way."

"Oh, ummm ... thanks ... I think."

"What?" Zim's eyes grew so large that his contacts nearly fell out. "Dib! _Why_ has this unworthy Stink-beast seen your clothes that you wear ... under your clothes?"

Smirking at Zim's reaction, Pepito decided that he was too pleased with himself to be offended by the 'unworthy stink-beast' comment. "Why do you care?"

"_Because_! Because ... the Dib is my love-pig! Everyone at skool knows this! You dare look upon the undergarments of this filthy beast of hair and meat that belongs to _Zim_?"

Pepito had to take a very slow and deep breath to keep from breaking down in hysterical laugher. "You know, I think talking about your partner like that is considered a form of domestic violence. Are you guys one of those couples who constantly role-play submissive/dominance in real life or something?"

Zippered teeth shone in a wide grin. "Why, yes. Yes, we are. Thank you for noticing." Zim wasn't entirely sure what the Earth-monkey was talking about, but he would claim dominance over the Dib whenever he could.

"Zim, you jerk! We are not! And if we were, _I_ would be dominant."

"Poor, little, delusional Dib." Zim shook his head, as if bemoaning Dib's feeble mental state. "A lowly human like you could never dominate ... erm ... another lowly –but not as lowly as you- human such as myself."

"Whatever, Space-boy! I'm taller, and the taller guy in a gay relationship is always the dominant one. I bet that's even more true on your plan ... country. Plus, you wore a dress until tenth grade. And you have really girly mannerisms."

"Dib, you are not a member of my glorious ... country and therefore not subject to the same rules. Your height means little in comparison with me. And I have done some research on these ... 'gay' couples of which you speak, and there is no rule regarding height. That is simply a stereotype. My uniform is _not_ a dress, and your assumption that 'girly' means submissive is sexist and ill-founded. Just look at your sister-beast!"

"Wow, Zim. That was actually a logical argument. I'm not sure that we've ever had one of those before."

"Yessss. Zim is amazing. You may grovel before me now." Interesting. Though Zim was sure that they had had a few good arguments before, that sleep thing that he was trying out did seem to improve his logical processing a bit. Irkens didn't actually need sleep, unlike most beings throughout the known universe, because of the pak. This was yet another personal insecurity for Zim as his improved logic meant that the sleep was riding his brain of built-up, useless wrinkles. He shouldn't be relying on it enough for those to build up.

"I don't think so."

Zim waved a dismissive hand. "Fine. Suit yourself, Dirt-child. The groveling can wait until I have conquered this filthy ball of filth."

"What was that last bit about conquering the Earth?" Pepito raised an eyebrow in question.

Turning to the Pepito-human, Zim quickly stammered a reply, "The Earth? Noooo. Don't be silly. The filthy ball of which I speak is the basketball! The Dib and I are having a rivalry in our hi skool PE class about who shall conquer that filthy, germ-riddled ball of rubber." Never mind that they weren't actually taking PE that semester.

Pepito smirked knowingly at the obvious cover-up. The sad part was that, for most people, that explanation would suffice. He knew this from his late elementary/early middle skool days of having to invent quick, but not necessarily good, cover stories of his own after letting the truth slip. "Ah. Well, good luck with that."

The sarcasm was mostly lost on Zim, but Dib picked it up easily. "You know."

"What?"

"You _know_! And you don't care! Just like Gaz and Squee and ... _Dwicky_!" Just thinking about his old skool councilor fueled his anger even more. "You know, it used to bother me that humanity in general was so unknowing, so ignorant. But the more people I meet who know the truth and don't give a damn, the more I don't give a damn if you all get completely doomed!"

A clean and newly dressed Todd stopped in his tracks coming out the bathroom. He leaned against the wall, temporarily unnoticed, running a hand through his damp hair before massaging is temples in dismay. Dib, the self-proclaimed 'savior of mankind', was giving his 'work to save the Earth or be doomed' speech to the Antichrist! He desperately hoped that neither of them would do anything stupid.

Pepito shrugged. "Oh. I _care_, I guess. I just don't think that Zimmy here is really a threat. Have you ever considered that maybe you're looking for the right thing in the wrong place?" If he had thought the alien a threat to the Earth, and thus his own future rule, he would have disposed of him years ago, when they had meet as hi skool freshmen. It would have been hard though, to take Zim out without alerting his number one stalker, and by that time Todd and Dib were friends, so getting rid of Dib as well would have been ... not very nice, as Todd would surely say. Plus, Dib and Zim were entertaining ... from a distance.

Dib narrowed behind his round glasses. "Actually, I have. That's part of why we're here. Tell me, what exactly did you mean by that?"

At that point, Todd took it upon himself to interject, both physically and vocally. He hurried over to plant himself directly between the two, who were both surprised by his presence. "He just meant that there are lots of serious threats to the Earth, like global warming, nuclear war and overpopulation. If you spend all your time worrying about only the immediate and obvious, if less serious, threats, you will miss the ones that accumulate slowly, but are, in fact, quite serious. Right, Pepito?" He gave the his ribs a nudge with his elbow. "_Right_?"

"Oh, yeah. Of course. What else would I have meant?"

As Dib seemed to accept this explanation, and agree with it for the most part, Todd released a relieved sigh. "Good. So, did you guys come to check on me? Cause I'm pretty okay."

"_Okay_?" Zim's eyes were locked on the long, stitched cut up the Squeak's wrist. His hand shot out to point at it dramatically, even going so far as to wiggle a finger at it. "What in the path of this booby-trapped sun's light happened to you? You look like Keef tried to make you into a pair of footy-pajamas!"

Dib shivered in horror. "Footy-pajamas. So wrong."

Todd gave Dib a confused look before following Zim's gaze to his, now bandage and sleeve-free, arm. He cringed at the sight. "I just ... had an accident. I would rather not talk about it, actually."

"You should probably keep it bandaged up for a while longer," Dib suggested uneasily. He'd had his own fair share of injuries, but none so serious or self-inflicted. "That reminds me." He reached into one of the many pockets of his trench coat to retrieve an unmarked, white, toothpaste-like tube. "I took this from my dad's lab. It's a disinfectant that's supposed to contain some type of super fast healing formula."

Todd looked the tube over hesitantly. What if it had all kinds of detrimental side effects like Super Toast? He had a secret inkling that that stuff was radioactive or at least contained steroids. It was already scary enough that Dib's little sister had performed surgery on him. He still half expected to feel sudden stabbing pains from small, sharp objects purposefully planted in his arm to teach him to be less of a whiner or something.

When Squee didn't take the tube from his extended hand, Dib offered it to Pepito instead. He could feel Zim's narrowed ocular implants boring into the back of his head, making him grow slightly nervous as the other seemed to hesitate as well. "Come on, do you guys think my dad's a quack or something?"

Actually, being very familiar with his father's inventions, he could understand their reluctance. Even so, he seriously doubted that it would make matters any better to tell them that the formula was actually something that he and Zim that thrown together shortly before coming there, which contained nanobots that were programmed to repair Squee's arm in a relatively short period of time before dying off themselves. If he applied the cream that they were hidden in now, it would be mostly healed by morning.

Pepito finally took the tube from his hand. "Well, I guess he is, supposedly, the world's foremost scientist for a reason." Retrieving the duffel bag he had taken from Dib's house from the corner that would be hidden behind his door when it was opened, Pepito set it on his bed."Todd, sit."

"Sit?" Todd gave him a half amused, incredulous look. "You're giving me dog commands now? I think that maybe this whole telling me what to do thing is going to your head."

"Oh, come now, Amigo. You know I didn't mean it like that. It's not as if I think of you as my 'love-pig' or expect you to grovel before me when I conquer the Earth or anything."

"What?" That better not have had any hidden meaning to it! If anyone ever called him their 'love-pig' he would be forced to projectile vomit all over them and himself. And he had never really been much for groveling either.

"_Not_ the Earth, the basket ball! I shall conquer the basket ball!" Zim defended uselessly.

Pepito ignored him. "Oh yeah. You missed that part. Did you know that Dib and Zim role-play S&M?"

"Nooo. Not consciously anyway." Todd finally took a seat on the bed beside Pepito. "But feel free to not fill me in on the details. It already sounds highly disturbing."

"_And_ highly _untrue_! We're not really going out, you know. We're just pretending because Chunk has issues." Dib nodded to add extra assurance of this.

Pepito ran a Q-tip coated in antibacterial cream along Todd's cut as gently as he could, not lifting his eyes from the arm as he spoke. "Really? That's very nice of you. How long have you been doing that?"

"A couple days now."

Continuing with Todd's arm, Pepito smiled. "Ohh. I thought that maybe it had been a couple years. That would have explained a few things. Heh. You know, there have been rumors at skool for quite some time." He paused for a moment to begin wrapping the arm in gauze. "You guys can talk to him while I do this. Feel free to have a seat wherever. I have a few beanbags and the computer chair. If you want, I guess you can stay and watch movies with us. How do you feel about Starship Troopers, Amigo?"

"Is that the one with the giant bugs that stab people with their limbs and shoot plasma into space from their butts? And the 'brain bug' that sucks peoples brains out to read their minds?" He wrinkled his noise in disgust.

"That's the one."

"Cool." It was funny how some of the very things that used to scare him as a child seemed be the things that made life interesting, things that he almost looked forward to, as he got older. Somewhere along the line, most of his writing had shifted to from adventure to horror. Of course, this development did have limitations, which were currently exceeded in his real life.

Dib had to fight back an urge to argue about his relationship with Zim, once again. It was really better to ignore it. People probably only said such things because they knew how much he hated Zim. Besides, he really needed to get the information he had come for. He pulled one of the beanbags from the side of the wall to sit in front of the left corner of the bed, where Squee was.

Zim remained standing. He didn't need to sit as much as those weak humans, and being lazy wasn't worth picking up all manner of germs that were surely crawling all over this room. He wished for the two-thousand-five-hundred-and-thirty-first time that he had never bought those frigging, germ-revealing Microgoggles. Ever since then, he had spent way too much mission time taking precautions against them. He also chose not to comment on the status of his relationship with the Dib because he had learned that it was in his best interests if others thought that Dib stalked him simply because he was stricken with the disease that was love of Zim's greatness.

"So, Squee," Dib began, "I know this may not be the best time, but we're currently working on taking care of one of those threats that aren't Zim, and I think you might be able to help."

Todd gave him a tired smile. When it rains, it pours, apparently. "I'm listening."

"Okay. Well, you know how Bitters is really weird, right?"

The smile instantly disappeared from his face, and he could feel Pepito's grip on his arm tighten a little too much for comfort. "Y-yeah."

"Well, it turns out there's a good reason for that. You see, we broke into her house a few days ago-"

Twitching impatiently, Zim suddenly cut him off, "Dib-thing, you talk too much. She's an alien. From outer space. Unlike me. Cause I'm all humany and normal-like."

"That, umm, that makes sense, actually."

Dib allowed himself a momentary smile in light of someone believing him about alien life and how rare that was before continuing. "Yeah. But that's not all. She's here researching our planet for another species. They're called the Veelob, and they're anaphasic life forms that feed on negative emotions. My, umm, sources, say that they are interested in buying the Earth from Miss Bitters' race so that they can use humans as conduits for feeding."

"Did you just say that they feed on negative emotions?" Pepito asked, shocked. He suddenly realized just how tight he was holding Todd's arm when he finally started trying to pry his hand off. "Oh, sorry, Todd." He released the arm altogether before turning back to Dib.

"Yes. And the reason I wanted to talk to Squee about it is because when he was younger I remember him having a stuffed bear that he used to talk to. I think its name was Shmee. Right?"

"Yes." Pepito and Todd answered together, both of their tones very  
serious.

"Well, 'Shmee' is Miss Bitters' password for the skool's computer system. And a Veelob was behind the green incident yesterday." At this news, Pepito looked excited in an almost happy way. Todd; however, looked a little shocked, but mostly unphased. "Squee?" Dib ventured. "Did you already know this?"

"I ... some of it. I suspected, at least. I, umm, don't have Shmee anymore. Johnny incinerated the teddy bear, and now the entity is free somewhere. That's ... kind of related to my ... accident. You should probably know that he can possess people. And that he can be very sadistic. Well, I'm really not sure if sadistic is the right word. Maybe he just does whatever it takes to get what he wants without regard for how he treats others." His contemplation of Shmee's character triggered a memory of a lecture by a visiting Priest at Brian's church: Evil isn't a positive force. It's not something with a presence in a person or the world at large. Evil is a lack, an emptiness where empathy should be, a disregard for the rights and feelings of other living things. Was that what Shmee was? Johnny definitely had that kind of lack.

"Wow. Why didn't you tell me this earlier?"

Todd jerked back to attention before he could further follow that disturbing train of thought. "Well, for one thing, I thought I was having a psychotic episode at first, and I didn't want to go back to the D.H.M.I. For another, it all happened really fast." There was also the fact that he was little afraid that Dib would treat him like one of his research subjects, which was intensified by the possibility of him having some nonhuman ancestry.

"I guess that makes sense. But, you know I don't think you're crazy, and I won't tell the institute anything. So, no more secrets, alright?"

"Sure." No.

"Great. Now we need a plan. Should we go after Bitters or Shmee first? Shmee is a more immediate danger, and Bitters doesn't know that we know yet. Maybe if we can capture him, we can get more information about taking Bitters down. For all we know, she's not the only researcher on Earth."

"Dib-thing, you do realize that Bitters probably has some way to monitor this 'Shmee', correct? It was probably connected to the bear, making it a logical assumption that she now knows that he is free, but not where he is or what he is up to."

Relieved that Bitters wouldn't know when, and if, they capture Shmee or about anything Shmee might find out himself, Todd released a sigh. "So, she probably knows about everything that he saw before Nny burned the bear. That's not so bad. All of that was before we knew about Bitters or even what Shmee was really."

"Yeah, but you are half of the experiment with Shmee, Amigo. What if she tries to take you in for testing or something? It would probably be too suspicious if you withdrew from her class, but I think we're going to need to watch you at all times. Monday, we need to change our schedules around to make sure that you don't have any classes alone. And we all need to act like nothing is wrong."

"Fine. I'll say goodbye to what little privacy I have left. At least I only knew it for a short time." Todd lifted the Wuv Bear from the bed, mainly just to busy his hands, glaring at it as if his predicament was all its fault. The glare softened as he realized how ungrateful he was being. For once, others actually believed him and were trying to help him escape the horrors that plagued him, even if it was mostly for their own reasons. He raised his eyes from the bear, a little ashamed "Thanks a lot for this, though. I really do appreciate it."

A warm, tingly feeling instantly spread through Dib's body, making him want to tear up, though he managed to suppress the urge. No one had ever thanked him for his Earth-saving efforts! He had been waiting for some kind of recognition for so long that he had finally stopped expecting it, even from individual people.

Zim's eyes grew wide as green lips parted for the his jaw to hang open in shock as the Dib sprung out of the bag of beans that made up the pathetic human sitting instrument to latch onto the Squeaky kid in a tight hug. The Dib didn't _hug_! His enemy was far too superior to engage in such a weak display of affection!

"Todd! Thank you so much! I can't tell you how much your gratitude means to me!"

"Uh, your welcome … too?" Todd raised his uninjured hand to pat Dib's back a few times uncertainly, trying to ignore the Wuv Bear now pressing into his stomach. It wasn't that _he_ minded hugs. It was just that Dib had never really been much of a hugger. He had always seemed a little uncomfortable with human contact, though it wasn't comparable with Johnny's position on the subject. And, all he had done to bring this on was give the other a measly 'thank you'.

"Dib! What do you think you are doing? You do not engage in such lowly, unevolved, hyuman practices! And, you are supposed to be Zim's love-pig!"

When he realized that he was showing weakness in front of the Irken, and apparently inciting his rage, he immediately stopped hugging Squee. "Shut-up, Space-boy! That was a _friendly_ hug! And, it's not unevolved ... not for anyone who is actually _human_ anyway. And, we're not really a couple!"

Zim's widened eyes narrowed. "You are my enemy, Dib-stink, and when you degrade yourself through filthy human attachments and weaknesses, you degrade Zim as well." The fact that the Dib was able to hold off the invasion of his pitiful planet from Zim, even back when he had been more honestly motivated to takeover the Earth, meant that, at least in some ways, they were equals. As such, Dib's weaknesses reflected poorly on Zim as well. They reminded him of his greatest insecurities, of why he was considered a defect on Irk. That his first words, before he had even been programmed, had been an expression of the greatest weakness, according to his own people. And, that it had been something that they wouldn't, couldn't, return.

Dib released a deep, exasperated sigh, tried of arguing with the alien because of social brainwashing from a society that chose its leaders simply because they were taller than everyone else. "Whatever, Zim. I don't really want to hear it right now. Besides, we still need an actual plan."

"You want a plan? Zim will give you a plan! Oh, such plans will I give!" Zim thrust his hand into the air to add dramatic effect to his claim before drawing it back to himself to rub his chin in contemplation. "Hummm ... I've got it! We will use the Squeaky-kid for bait! Anaphasic life forms need a relatively stable anchor into the material world in order to maintain molecular cohesion. The bear probably served this purpose well enough to allow the Veelob to maintain itself in a state of near-hibernation, but it needs a living host in order to actively 'live'. Now that the bear is no more, the host is more vital than ever. It _will_ seek him out."

Pepito wrapped an arm around Todd as if it would somehow protect him from Zim's forming plan. "Well, I suppose if Shmee coming for him is unavoidable, we might as well be prepared for it. But, are you sure he needs Todd specifically? Couldn't he just find another host?"

"Do not question Zim! And, from what I know about his kind, which admittedly isn't all that much, he _could_ find another compatible host, but he won't. Veelobs form strong bonds with their hosts, usually maintaining the attachment until the death of the host before finding another, in many cases the offspring of said host. 'Shmee' may use other hosts out of necessity, but he will be compelled to return to the Squeaky-human."

"That fits with what he said to me at Nny's house about us having a bond that would remain until I die," Todd added in a small voice.

At those words, Pepito came to a seemingly obvious realization that he had overlooked before. "That's why you wanted to die." So it hadn't been about escaping the Defective Head Meat Institute after all. Instead, it had been a final defiance of tyrannical creature's control over his life. He had a feeling that his father would find that quite admirable, but it mostly just made him hate Shmee even more than he already did.

"Yeah." Todd looked down at the Wuv Bear in his hands uncomfortably. "So, are we really going to try to trap him in this?"

"_That_? That impuissant thing is unworthy to hold the white, puffy wuv that it currently contains! Just look at it ... with its blatant infantile cuteness!"

Dib gave Zim a leveling gaze, speaking in a bored tone. "Zim, you have a floating, purple moose with little nubs for legs. And it squeaks adorably. It looks like a preskooler's pool toy." Plus, Zim was pretty cute himself with his big red-pink eyes and those antennae that moved in accordance with his moods like puppy ears. Wait. No! Zim wasn't cute! Zim was a horrendous, alien monster that had to be stopped!

"Silence! No one insults Minimoose like that! No one! And those are nubs of _doom_! Those nubs could destroy you all!"

"Do I even have to say anything at this point?"

"I meant at basket ball, Dib-monkey! Hovering is an advantage, ya know." Zim snatched the pink bear from the Squeak's arms, giving it a critical once over. "Fine. We will use this feeble, human cuddle thingie to trap the Veelob. I will take it to my house for upgrading. And then, we shall wait!"

"Yes, well, we should probably do the waiting somewhere that's not my house. And not until Squee is better." Pepito's eyes gleamed a slight red as he stared at Zim, somehow a little offended for the symbolic relic of his childhood, even though he felt no real attachment to it. Working with Zim was going to be annoying. And he definitely wasn't exposing his own identity, which limited his capabilities working within this group. Still, as an alien, Zim had access to knowledge, and possibly technology, that could prove integral to stopping Shmee and Bitters.

Dib nodded in agreement. "Squee will probably be better really soon since he used the cream. And you're right. Shmee will probably want to approach him in a familiar place, like his house or the skool. His house is the better bet because they spent more time there, and doing it in public could end badly, especially if we fail."

"My parents aren't going to like this, but I guess we can do it at their house." 'Our house' didn't seem appropriate. Then again, neither did 'my parents'. "Maybe they'll get abducted by aliens or something ... again." At least now Todd knew that the abduction had probably really happened instead of it just being wishful thinking on his part.

"Yes. Maybe they will." Zim couldn't help the smirk that forced one side of his lips to curl. Even if he was currently working to save the Earth, he could still mix in some of his old, filthy evil. Of course, the look on the Dib's face was telling him that he would have to return the specimens to the Squeak eventually, but no matter. With Irken technology, even specimens as weak as humans could survive a wide array of fun experiments.

-----------------------------------SCENE SHIFT----------------------------

Loud cheering invaded Gaz's ears as she removed the small earphones to better appreciate what was sure to be the best part of the game. To her immediate right, Hanzhi leaned on Meph's shoulder, reading some of his poetry from a black notebook he held open for her with his right hand. His left arm was currently around her shoulder. Ick. Did _everyone_ have to couple up into overrated social suicide packs? Neither seemed to be paying attention to the game, so Gaz elbowed Hanzhi. "Hey, watch the field."

On her other side, at least Gretchen and Keef were watching the game through their annoying chatter. Looking at them all made her want to hurl because it was like looking in a mirror. Keef had been allowed to dress them all, resulting in their shiny and stylish, if somewhat flamboyant, appearance. Gretchen, surprisingly, looked almost pretty, even by Hi Skool standards. This had allowed her to accompany Maki, the nerdiest guy on the football team, to the game, gaining her entrance to the football locker room before the game ... which was about to payoff more than the secret cheat codes to Super Living Dead Piggy Slayer Three Thousand at her last gaming convention. Gaz leaned foward to give the game her individed attention.

After the latest kickoff, Chunk hurled his massive body across the field, playing the part of the human shield that he was to Maki, who was running the ball. Her scowl slowly reversed itself as he began to lose momentum. The sleeping pills Gretchen had switched his steroids with were starting to do their job.

The other team's defensive linemen took turns slamming into him, each impact slowing him down more and more until he was barely moving forward. Finally, he was tackled to the ground, hard. Maki sped up, leaping over the two bodies, leading two more linemen to add themselves to the pile in hopes of tackling him. The sound of a sickening crunch permeated the field, drawing in a small crowd that the medical unit had to push through. In the confusion, no one bothered to stop Maki from making the final, winning touchdown of the game.

As Chunk was pulled from the pile and moved to the sideline so that the medical personnel could examine his leg, Thorny the Pig, Lackadaisical Hi's porcupine mascot pranced around the field, waving the skool's flag, encouraging the crowd in the bleachers to cheer.

As the fans stood, Gaz and the others joined them. No one was any the wiser that the seemingly average group was cheering enthusiastically for a reason that had nothing to do with their team winning the game.

--------------------------------TIME SHIFT------------------------------

Gaz quickly covered up her initial reaction to the loud pop music pounding her eardrums as she watched Maki help Chunk, who now sported a leg cast and crutches, from the front seat of the QV's car before climbing out of the back seat herself. It only got worse as they made their way up the lawn and into the white, two-story house belonging to Derog, a popular senior guy who was one of Chunk's best friends. All of the furniture in the large living room had been pushed against the walls. Surround sound speakers blasted dancing teens from all directions, the rhythm seeming to pull them to and fro like puppets ... puppets spilling beer all over each other almost in sync with the music. Others took to the couches to make out and spill beer on each other in a more intimate setting.

"So, do you want me to getcha a beer? Or, better yet, do ya wanna get me a beer?" Chunk asked with a slight slur. The medics had obviously given him painkillers for his broken leg, but he had insisted on attending the after party anyway.

"No."

"Do you wanna dance?" He smiled stupidly. "You can use one of my crutches as a pole."

"Fuck you." She may have been putting on a charade for everyone else, but there was no way she was playing the love struck idiot for this ... idiot. He knew the deal. Well, he knew a deal. He had no idea about the plan. She didn't have to be nice to him to cover that up, but if she didn't put some distance between them soon, she would kill him, likely in front of quite a few witnesses.

"Already? We could go upstairs, maybe find an empty bedroom."

"Hell no." Deep breaths, in and out. Quick and painless was too good for him.

"Well, screw this. I ain't standin' around all night. I'm gonna get me some beer."

"Whatever."

She watched Chunk's large back disappear into the crowd, accumulating beer stains as the others parted for his crippled body. She shuddered at the thought of actually dating him. If she were a normal teenage girl, this would be the point at which she would have been thankful for her brother's attempt at forbidding her from doing so. But she was far from being normal, and this was going to be _so_ sweet.

"Hey, Gaz!"

Turning around, she brushed purple hair from her eyes to see the group she had been sitting with at the game approach her. A sideways smirk formed on her face. Ah yes, the makings of an upper division Doom Squad. Early in middle skool she had discovered the wonders of social psychology, and how easily teenage social animals could be manipulated into granting her will, sometimes through elaborate and almost untraceable tactics. Dooming those who annoyed her could be just as much fun as gaming. Before leaving middle skool, she had accumulated a network of almost fifty kids, though many of them had been left behind. Still, it was only the end of the first week of hi skool, and already she had a solid base.

The small group gathered around Gaz, and Hanzhi leaned in close to whisper. "So, what's the game plan?"

"Did you guys bring all the stuff I told you to bring?" She received four nods. "Alright. Gretchen, go entertain your date. He may be useful again at some point. And wear the ear piece in case we need you." There was a pause as Gretchen put a small communication device in her ear and left the group. "Keef. You go secure us a bedroom. We'll be up shortly."

"I don't know, Gaz. Dib would be really upset with me if I happen to you."

"Ugh. Forget about Dib. And nothing like _that_ is going to happen to me. Alright? Now, go."

"Oh ... alright." Keef gave her an uneasy smile before leaving to interrupt anyone drunk enough to forget to lock the bedroom door.

"Okay. You two are with me. Hanzhi, you're really with me. See that jerk over there?" Gaz paused to nod at Derog, who was currently at the keg, holding a tinted plastic cup into the light to watch a pill dissolve in the bottom.

"Yeah."

"Well, I need you to help me get him into a bedroom. That's when all the stuff we've brought will come into play."

Hanzhi shuffled her feet nervously. She was terrible at acting the seductive part, and Gaz was bound to be even worse. "Do you think maybe we should have a drink or something first?"

Gaz's eyes narrowed once again. "No. You know Squad members don't drink on an assignment unless its absolutely necessary. Just," She searched the crowd of swaying bodies before her finger landed on two, obviously straight, girls grinding together to get attention from a group of senior guys. "Act like those morons. And act drunk. He's probably too stupid and drunk himself to notice bad acting anyway. Meph, you just tag along at a distance. And try not to act like the jealous boyfriend."

Hanzhi was surprised that Gaz's plan had worked so easily. Apparently, half-drunk football jerks weren't inclined to observation. They had easily convinced him to abandon his intended conquest for a few hours with the two of them. The way Gaz spoke with sugar coated venom, leading the player up the stairs and into a bedroom, sent a shiver down her spine. She was like one of those spiders that had evolved to look like an ant, and went into their colonies to kill, unnoticed.

"Why don't you two get naked and warm up the bed for me." His smile was lewd and his tongue was even hanging out a bit.

Gaz slammed the door shut harder than she had intended. "Who said _you_ were in charge?"

"Oh, so that's how you wanna play it. I'm down with that, baby."

"Good. Now, why don't you get on the bed?" Gaz pulled a small plastic cube from her purse before peeling off a sticky strap. "But first, we'll need this." The cube unfolded quickly, expanding into a sheet-sized plastic cover.

Derog gave her a highly confused look.

Shrugging, Hanzhi stammered a quick explanation, "We're going to lose a lot of fluid. I mean, we don't want to leave any stains, do we? And probably a few people have used this bed already."

"Whatever." These girls were definitely inexperienced, but a two for one deal was too good to pass up, so he crawled onto the plastic covered bed. Both girls joined him on the bed, crawling on all fours toward him, though they still had on all their clothes ... and had their purses with them. Nodding to her friend, the purple-haired one grabbed the front of Derog's shirt before slamming him down onto the mattress. The next thing he knew, she had gripped his hands, pinning them beside his head. That was a surprise. It was even more of one when the black-haired girl wrapped a rope tightly around his left wrist, securing him to the bedpost.

Maybe he had been wrong about them. "Ropes? You girls are pretty kinky for fresh-meat. I bet you were total freaks in middle skool."

Gaz smirked. "You have _no_ idea."

The brunette passed the second rope to the other girl who set about tying his other hand even tighter than the first. "Ouch. That's kinda tight."

Rolling her eyes when his eyes were elsewhere, Hanzhi forced out yet another cheesy attempt at being seductive, "Don't you like it…_tight_?"

"Oh, yeah. That's _just_ how I like it. But, I like it tight around something else."

Gaz had to fight against her gag reflex. Hopefully, the end result of this disgusting endeavor would be worth it. "We'll get to that." She took one of two more ropes that Hanzhi had pulled out, and moved to his legs.

"My legs too?"

"We don't want you to jerk around too much." Hanzhi followed her statement with a little wink.

The urge to laugh was terrible. She hadn't seen Hanzhi this embarrassed in some time. "Resistance is futile. Now lose the pants." Ha! That sounded like something Zim would say to her brother! Eww.

"I wasn't planning on resisting." Derog lifted his hips and legs so the girls could remove his pants before letting them tie his legs.

"We'll see about that." Throwing the pants over the side of the bed, Gaz opened her own purse, which was actually more like a medical travel kit. Because of her superior hand-eye coordination, her father had bribed her to take a few medical classes over the summer. She had made the best grade in both classes, and now her father was convinced that she would be the top medical doctor of her generation. Psh. Only if she failed at being the top video game designer. But, in any case, it was nice to have surgical knowledge. Not only could she help save the lives of whiney bitches like Squee, she could also ruin the lives of sorry assholes like Derog and Chunk, which she found highly amusing.

"Huh? What are you doing now?"

"Just getting something."

"I have some condoms in the top drawer."

"Oh, we won't be needing any of those. I have a different ... preventative method in mind."

"Look, I appreciate the gesture, but I don't really know where you girls have been. Coach says that condoms are best for STDs."

"Coach is right." Gaz laughed lightly at the insulted expression on Haanzhi's face before slipping her hands into latex surgical gloves. "Latex is really the best way to go to protect yourself."

"What the hell! Listen, I don't know what you have planed, but I'm not into anything queer, so just put that shit away."

"I guess what's about to happen to you could be considered 'queer'. But I'll let you decide. A lot of people in your soon to be condition don't see it that way." Reaching into her bag again, Gaz lifted an injection needle full of a special paralysis agent her father had been working on. It was technically still in research and development, but her own father had said that animal subjects are no substitute for humans ... if only there weren't laws against those particular methods. Silly laws. She readied the needle. "Here's to research."

"What? Are you crazy? Oh, my God! You're that creepy Dib kid's sister, aren't you? Damn. I should have known. You are crazy. Just like him. Let me go! Now!"

"Your voice is annoying." With that she brought the needle down, into his vein, and injected the fluid.

"Ouch! What was that! What ... the hell ... did ... you bitches...do to mah ... you ... mahin' ... beg ... misstak ... beee ... sorr ... yy ..." His words died as his skeletal muscles were paralyzed.

"That was pathetic. Okay. Go let Meph in, but make sure Keef stays outside the door and doesn't let anyone in." One of the things she had learned was to gradually expose members to progressively more deviant behavior over time instead of all at once. Meph and Hanzhi had been members for a few years now, while Gretchen and Keef were still at the stage where they could easily be scared away ... possibly even attempt to expose the group, thus necessitating their elimination.

Slipping a pair of gloves on herself, Hanzhi placed her own purse on the nightstand before opening the door a crack to let Meph in. As soon as he entered, she handed him a pair of gloves as well. "No prints." They both joined Gaz on the bed.

"Okay. Time to prep the patient."

-----------------------------------TIME SHIFT---------------------------

When the trio had emerged from the bedroom, leaving a semiconscious Derog still tied to the bed with a new makeover, and joined Keef, the party had spread to he lawn. Since that was where the less revolting things seemed to be happening, that is where Gaz led them.

She sat on the hood of Gretchen's old car, observing the others from behind her Game Slave. Meph and Hanzhi were dancing to some rap song. Gretchen was sitting in a porch swing with Maki, apparently doing a very good job of making their date appear genuine. Maybe too good. Keef had found a group of singles clustered together to chat with after Gaz had turned him down for a dance.

Focusing once again on her game, she laughed lightly to herself, remembering the last time she had danced with someone, just yesterday. Pausing the game, she took a moment to pull a picture from her pocket: She and Squee mid-drunken-swirl. A few class periods later, she had caught the yearbook girl, whom she had threatened into giving her the camera's memory disk before leaving her locked in her own locker.

That morning, the news had reported the girl as a casualty in what they were calling 'The Cafeteria Accident'. Apparently, she had been unable to escape the building before the Emergency Task Force had unleashed deadly gases into the sealed building in hopes of killing the 'green' because she was trapped in the locker. This did nothing for Gaz either way. It didn't appease her sense of sadistic joy, and it didn't make her feel guilty either.

For Gaz's part, her death had been completely unintentional and seemed mostly undeserved. She had already learned not to get in Gaz's way. It would have been funny if she had died via the green blob from sheer stupidity like many of her classmates, though. She chuckled at the memory. She would have to get her own copies of Dib's pictures as memorabilia.

Her thoughts were interrupted at the sound of a loud crash from inside the house, after which the blaring music immediately ceased. Then a roughed up Derog stumbled from his house, onto the porch. Finally. She took a moment to save her game and switch the Game Slave off before giving him ... now _her_ ... or hir ... whatever ... her full attention. A messy, long, blond wing was glued to Derog's head. Hir make up was smeared horribly, as if she had hastily tried to wash it off in hir doped-up condition. The paralyzing agent she had given hir did not include anything that would take away hir pain or consciousness, so she had made hir drink the very same drink she had seen hir mixing before, which had left hir in a very susceptible state. It probably hadn't helped that she had been tied to a bed with no underwear and no way to say no to anyone who might take it as an invitation.

She briefly wondered who had freed hir before going back to hir looks. There was blood staining hir pink shirt. It seemed to be coalesced around the new breasts. An even bigger crimson stain stuck out around the pelvic region of the miniskirt. Gaz shook her head in mock disapproval. Sex so soon after a sex-change operation was not in the doctor's orders. Luckily, she wasn't really a doctor.

Derog paced, in pain and limping, across the porch several times in distress. "Who! Who did this to me!" His voice was horse and his tone was hollow. All he could remember of the party was being fucked, over and over, by other guys, feeling so much pain, and not being able to say as much as 'stop'. He knew that he had recognized several faces, probably his own friends from the team, but they had all blurred together. Time seemed to run together as well, but when the group of them had finally left, one of them had cut his ropes with a Swiss army knife. He had stumbled into the bathroom and seen the reflection of someone else in the mirror ... a chick. A broken chick. An object ... like all the girls he had done that very thing to. That had been the breaking point.

He looked out desperately into the crowd, gathered and growing, on his own front lawn. Clutching his father's pistol tightly in his hand, he brought it up, pressing the barrel to his temple. "Tell me who did it!" No one said anything. At least not to him. He could hear whispering, and muffled speculation as to who the drunken slut on the porch was. He pulled harshly at the wig, only to flinch in even more pain. "I'll do it! I'll shoot myself! Somebody tell me! Please!"

Gaz turned her gaze to the crowd for a moment. There was laughter from some of the football players. Torque Smacky had a sickened look on his face, directed mostly at his fellow players, but said nothing. Maki and Gretchen had backed to the railing of the porch to get away from the apparent lunatic with a gun.

"Tell me!" He cocked the gun. "I swear, I will!"

Gaz smirked, setting her radio transmitter to the frequency for only Hanzhi and Meph. Putting her hands around her mouth to achieve a slight megaphone effect, she yelled loudly into the crowd of partygoers. "Do it!" While several teens looked around, wondering who had the guts to voice it, she spoke into the communicator. "Meph, go to the other side of the crowd. Hanzhi, stay where you are. Now say it."

A loud "Do it!" came from the right side of the crowd.

"Alright, Meph, now you say it."

Another "Do it" from the left side. Ten seconds later, the crowd was chanting it full on.

Gaz broke her sadistic smile, only to join in the chant. Anonymity at its best. The larger the crowds gathered when someone was threatening to off themselves, the more likely someone was to scream 'do it', and the more likely the whole crowd was to follow. So predictable. She thought society was like a large-scale video game, full of preset reactions to her maneuvers and disposable background, nonplayer characters.

Derog was breathing hard, almost as if he were having a panic attack. He had never known what it was like for those girls, what it was to be used and tossed aside completely. His vision grew blurry with tears, and somewhere beneath all the self-pity there was a small welling of remorse for the others. He pulled the trigger.

A loud 'bang' resounded through the yard, and most of those on the porch were splattered with Derog's blood. His dying body crashed to the floor of the porch before rolling down the stairs, leaving a trail of red from the hole in his head. There was a long, shocked silence, then gasps, screams and even laughs. A few people threw up. Gaz changed the frequency to include all four of them. "We're going. Now." She waited as Meph, Hanzhi and Keef made their ways to her immediately.

Only Gretchen lagged behind, being helped over the railing and onto the lawn by Maki. It took her a few minutes to convince him to let her go, then she was unlocking her car so that they could all pile inside. She seemed too dazed to notice that her new dress was speckled with blood.

As they pulled away, Gaz watched the dying party from the passenger window. More people were already leaving, some were crying or just standing there in shock. The same group of guys was laughing again. She smirked yet again. If only she could be there when the body was finally identified. Chunk's world, at least, would suffer a blow. She turned on the radio, thinking that maybe the event would make the news before she reached home, only to be greeted with reports of a high number of strange psychotic episodes breaking out all over town.

-----------------------------------SCENE SHIFT-----------------------------

It was a little after ten o'clock at night when the movie ended and Dib and Zim finally left, not late at all by Pepito's standards, but he had been awake for almost forty-eight hours now and was feeling pretty tried. After showing them both to the door, he had reported all he had learned to his father. The new knowledge seemed to ease his ill temper at coming home to the surprise visit and, because of it, having to remain in one of his human guises.

Pepito raised a hand to his mouth as he yawned, making his way up the stairs and back to his room where he had left Todd. He made a quick stop by the hall closet to grab a couple sleeping bags. When he reached his bedroom door, he let his powers do the job of opening it for him.

As soon as the door opened, Todd paused the video game he had been playing, standing up to push the beanbag chair back against the wall. "Hey. How did it go with your father?"

"Oh. Good. He's not so cranky anymore." Pepito let the door close behind him, carrying the sleeping bags to his bed.

Todd smiled at the idea of the Devil being cranky. It was a term that he tended to associate with babies and toddlers, so its application to Señor Diablo seemed very out of place. He gave Pepito a questioning look as he put the sleeping bags on the bed.

"Sorry, Todd, but I don't think you should sleep in the guest room. You'll be safer from both Shmee and yourself if someone's keeping an eye on you. Plus, Karl Rove likes to stop by sometimes, late at night, and that's where he sleeps."

"Karl Rove?"

"Yeah. You didn't think he was human, did you? He's actually used that name in several previous lifetimes, though his real name is Ronove. He's kind of one of my unofficial tutors."

"What does he teach you?" Todd asked this with some trepidation, aware that the lessons could very well be about gruesome torture techniques for all he knew. He wondered briefly if this was Pepito's first life, if he had lived before as a human or if he had existed previously as a demon in Hell, but quickly brushed the thought aside, afraid that the answer might be more than he could handle.

"Mostly rhetoric and political relations stuff. Sometimes languages, but a lot of my other tutors can do that just as well and he is rather busy with his own political career." He unrolled the sleeping bags, pushing the blue one to the inner side of his bed, against the wall. The red one was laid on the outer side, beside the nightstand. "Anyway, I'm going to take a quick shower before bed."

Todd studied his socked feet uncomfortably for a moment. "Umm. I don't mind sleeping on the floor."

Pepito gave him an offended, look crossing his arms over his chest. "You are not sleeping on the floor, Amigo. If it makes you that uncomfortable, then I will. But, after staying awake for so long, I would really prefer a bed."

Gah! How did Pepito always manage to make him feel so guilty! He had thought that that was mainly a Christian thing, but withheld the comment, lest he become even more offended. He looked up when he felt Pepito's hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, Squee. It's not really that big a deal, is it? I mean, we each have our own sleeping bag. It's just like any normal sleep over, except without the morning backaches." He thought it very odd that Todd was acting so reluctant about something so trivial. Did he think he was trying to get in his pants or something? Oh, shit. He did! "Ohhh. Is this about that whole 'sucking' thing earlier? Because I was just kidding about that, but then Mother came in with Dib and Zim and I didn't really get to the joking part. I didn't mean to leave you thinking that ... I mean, I would never try to force or pressure you into anything like that. Not that I would mind doing it if you really wanted to, but I know you don't and ... yeah. So, I'm not going to stick my hand down your pants or anything."

Both of his parents had taught him that rape was morally despicable, but even if this had not been the case, Pepito would have no interest in it himself. As he saw it, the primary positive distinction of having sex with someone else, as opposed to one's self, was knowing that the person in question wanted you and that you could give them pleasure. Rape defeated that purpose entirely. Seduction, however, was perfectly acceptable, and he did enjoy a good challenge.

"Oh. Okay. Umm, thanks for letting me know. Sorry for thinking that, I guess." Yeah, that wasn't awkward at all. That revelation did put him mostly at ease, though.

Pepito gave Todd's shoulder a few pats before removing his hand. "My fault completely. We're good, though, right?"

"Yeah." Todd gave him a reassuring smile.

"Great. Well, I'll just be a short while in the shower. You can make yourself at home or go ahead and go to sleep or whatever you want." Pepito returned the smile, still feeling a little bad, before heading into his bathroom.

Glancing around the room, Todd noticed that most of the books on Pepito's shelf consisted of classics and science fiction. There was hardly any horror, despite of what one might expect, probably because Pepito had so much experience with the subject matter that reading about the theories of 'mere mortals' was just annoying. Also, many of them tended to paint an unpleasant picture of his family. There was a binder that appeared to be a photo album on the bottom shelf, and he was highly tempted to look through it. Resisting the urge to pry into his friend's privacy, he climbed onto the bed, slipping into the blue sleeping bag. Pepito's bed was actually very soft ... maybe the mattress was made of feathers or some space-age type material. It was the exact opposite of the beds at the D.H.M.I. and it made him instantly feel as if he could set adrift on the calm waters of the river Sleep.

Closing his eyes, Todd let his mind sink into the place where random thoughts float to the surface with no real urgency or significance unless one chooses to dwell on them. It occurred to him to he hadn't taken his medication since Thursday morning. He would have to make sure Brian didn't find out about that. Did that have anything to do with Shmee growing stronger or was it merely coincidence? It seemed as if Shmee had been growing stronger since he got him back, so probably it was just an effect of their being together again. Besides, his mom seemed to have to take enough medication to shut out reality almost completely in order to feel safe. He wondered if Zim would really abduct his parents when they used his house. Remembering the results of the last time that they had been abducted, he decided that it was probably a bad idea, making a metal note to try to stop it.

He shifted slightly on the mattress as he heard the click of the bathroom light switching off and the slight creak of the door opening. The orange light behind his eyes blinked out as the bedroom light was turned off as well.

"Amigo? Hey, Squee, you awake?" When he received no answer, Pepito gently lowered himself onto the foot of the bed before crawling over his own sleeping bag to the head. After slipping halfway into the sleeve of blankets, he turned to Todd, raising a hand over his head. He took a moment to settle into a tranquil state so that he could feel the his energy before muttering a protection spell lowly to himself.

Todd had to fight back an impulse to open his eyes, shove Pepito's hand away, send himself tumbling off the bed in his haste to escape and maybe even release one of the squeals that were his name-sake. What was Pepito doing to him? He should have known better than to stay there, much less sleep in the same room as the Antichrist! As the hushed speech came to an end, he forced his racing mind to calm as much as possible in order to observe any possible effects.

Gazing at Todd's seemingly tranquil visage, Pepito smiled slightly as he allowed his thumb to glide softly across his forehead. "Buenas noches, Amigo." His hand brushed silky bangs from his brow as he slowly bent down to place a lingering kiss where his thumb had been.

At the contact of soft lips with his skin, Todd's eyes shot open in surprise, only to find Pepito's eyes momentarily closed. Quickly shutting his own again, he tried to subdue any signs that he was awake, but couldn't help a small smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. Stupid, warm, swishy feelings, making him feel at ease when he should be taking some sort of evasive action! He felt the him pull away, followed by a dip in the bed when he laid down in his sleeping bag on his own side of the bed. Deciding to catch him off guard, Todd repositioned himself so that he was on his right side, facing Pepito before speaking in a groggy tone. "Good night, Pepito."

Pepito's left eye opened widely. After a few seconds, his right eye opened as well as he turned to face Todd. "Todd, you're awake?"

"For the most part, I think. What was that you just did to me?"

"Oh, I simply placed a protection charm on you. As Father said, this house is already under protection, but Shmee seems to be attached to you through your imagination, and especially your dreams. Hopefully, this way, he won't be paying you a visit tonight, although I'm not sure if my magic will work as well on something like Shmee. Wake me if you have another nightmare, alright?"

Todd felt his muscles relax as relief flooded through him at the explanation. "Oh. Okay, but could you let me know the next time you're going to work Satanic magic on me?" He couldn't help but wonder if the kiss had been a part of the spell. Probably not since it came after the muttered word and after Pepito had bid him good night.

"If I do, will you let me do it?"

"Could I actually stop you?"

"No, but compassionate magic is strongest when the subject knows and is willing."

"I see."

"Todd, I'm just trying to help you. But you still don't trust me at all, do you?"

"I trust you ... some. Look, it's not you. It's just that I don't really trust anyone completely. I'm sorry. You've given me plenty of reasons to, and I'm trying. I just have issues. It's like there's this little voice in the back of my mind, besides Shmee, always telling me to doubt things: people, events, myself. I don't even know how much of what I experience is really happening half the time, so trusting is not so easy for me."

"I realize that it's not easy, but this is a very serious situation. If you have another confrontation with Shmee, I want you to be able to defend yourself, or at least be under some form of protection."

"Pepito, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Do you promise not to get mad?"

"I'll try my best."

"I'm ... I really am sorry about the things I said to you this morning, but when we were kids, before I went to the institution, you used to try to get me to join your father's soulless army of darkness a lot. And since you really _are_ the Antichrist, I'm guessing that I didn't hallucinate that. So, I'm kind of confused about why you didn't take it earlier. Do you still want it, or am I already condemned without knowing it or something?"

"Todd, that's a little more complicated than you seem to think." Pepito sighed deeply, not really wanting to get into such a potentially stressful topic during an already emotionally taxing situation. Nevertheless, he scooted out of his bag to pull himself into a sitting, Indian style, position, facing Todd. He watched nervously as Todd sat up as well, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping an arm around them before speaking in an informative, conversational tone.

"You see, as the Antichrist, it's not really my job to collect souls, at least not the standard collection that go to Hell in exchange for some petty wish or sin. My job is basically to appear as appealing as possible to the masses so that I may gain political power, while at the same time secretly developing my infernal powers to eventually lead the army of the Second Rebellion. After that, I will be Father's Region on Earth, which will be an extension of his dominion. The army is more my area, simply because they will be _my_ army when the final battle comes, but, once again, recruitment isn't really my priority, though I have enlisted a few exceptional individuals that I have happened across."

He paused momentarily to study his sleeping bag, his voice becoming more emotional as he began again. "Obviously, I've always found you to be exceptional, but ... I'm sorry about putting you on the spot with Father back then. That was wrong and I, well, I was sortof a spoiled brat back then. I wanted you to be my friend so much, but you didn't want that, and I guess I just thought that if you joined the army you wouldn't be afraid of me anymore. And then I could keep you ... forever." He cringed at his own words. "Wow, that sounded creepier than I intended. Are you completely freaked out yet?"

"Not _completely_." Todd gave him a shy smile, encouraging him to continue, though he wasn't really sure that he wanted to hear what was to come next. While Pepito's explanation for his attempted recruitment was flattering, and even somewhat understandable, the bit about keeping him 'forever' was undeniably creepy.

"I know this probably doesn't make a lot of sense to you, Amigo, but the reason I wanted your soul is because I liked you so much. If you weren't on my side at the end, we would probably never see each other again. So ... yes, I do still want it. But, I'm not so selfish as to try to trick or pressure you into it anymore. Those who join the army must be willing, and I wouldn't take you any other way. Uh, for the army I mean. Well, obviously for anything else either, but I digress. Right now, I don't think you're in any state to make such a decision. If you ever join, I want it to be your true will and not some desperate ploy to get out of living.

And, just as a side note, the whole 'soulless army of darkness' is mostly just Father's flare for the dramatic showing up. Obviously, you _are_ your soul, and your soul is really the part worth recruiting, so the members of the army aren't really soulless. He just means that they have pledged their souls, meaning themselves, to his service. The same could be said of those who pledge themselves to the Authority's army. And a lot of the fighting is more ideological than physical."

There was a moment of silence, during which Pepito moved closer to Todd, placing his hand on a blue-clothed knee. "Todd? Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm alright." Even Todd could tell that the affirmation had come a little too fast to be true. Conflicting ideas were colliding in his mind like too many ships on a turbulent sea of emotion.

"You don't sound alright. Listen. I don't want to be your friend so that I can recruit you; I want to recruit you because I value your friendship so much. The friendship comes first, and I promise to always put it first. I'm not going to constantly proselytize to you about it, and if you want to know anything about it, I'll truthfully tell you what I know. And if you decide that you want to go somewhere else when you die, then ... I hope you make it there, and that it makes you happy."

"Really?"

"Really." His lips formed a sad smile. "But I would miss you terribly."

Something about that smile and the resolute sincerity in Pepito's voice tugged at his heart. The hand on his leg moved up to land atop the tan one occupying his knee. "I would miss you too."

Pepito's eyes fell to the hand upon his own. A warm, tingling sensation seemed to ripple through his body, seeping into every cell on its way. "Even after everything you've learned about me? Even after what I just told you?"

Smiling softly at Pepito's surprise, Todd raised both their hands off his knee so that he could shift closer to him, wrapping his arms around him. "Of course. You're my best friend. I wuv you. Awut."

Returning the embrace, Pepito pulled Todd even closer so that he was nearly sitting in his lap. He laughed softly into his hair. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Never. If we end up in different afterlives, I'll have to find a way to send you little messages in a bottle or something. And they'll always be signed with 'awut a wuv'."

Pepito's arms tightened around him even more, almost desperately. "You better."

Instead of struggling, Todd simply rested his head against the shoulder at his nearest convenience. "I promise I'll try. And I'll consider your offer, though I can't promise a timely reply or the answer you want."

"Thank you, Amigo." Tilting his head down, he placed a soft kiss on Todd's exposed left cheek before he even realized what he was doing.

Todd felt his face heat up at the small kiss that was definitely not part of a spell this time. He raised his head and shuffled back a bit to give Pepito a curious look, his left eyebrow slightly raised.

Pepito felt his own cheeks warming a little, something that hadn't happened to him in such a situation in a long time. Damn. He could still be so impulsive sometimes. "Uhh. Sorry, Todd."

"It's okay." His lips formed something between a smile and a smirk. Being capable of making Pepito blush was somehow ... satisfying ... nearly as satisfying as the way the other boy was currently looking at him, though not as unsettling. "I don't mind."

Smiling wider, Pepito lifted a hand from Todd's back to run it slowly through his hair, watching him blush an even brighter red. "Todd, that ... thing with Shmee ... was that your first kiss?"

"Oh, no. My first kiss was ..." Todd paused momentarily, realizing that in addition to being embarrassing, his first kiss would require explaining that he was dressed as a girl at the time. "Heh ... never mind. But, it wasn't _that_ bad."

"You're not going to tell me?"

"Why do you need to know?"

"I don't need to know. But friends tell each other this kind of stuff, right?"

"I ... guess. Why don't you tell me about yours first?"

Pepito shrugged. "Very well. My first kiss was with Mary Thomas at the sixth grade Valentines Day dance, after I spent two hours convincing her that I didn't have cooties."

"Wow. That's pretty normal." It was also surprising, and a bit disturbing, that in some ways, the Antichrist was more normal than he was.

Pepito frowned at his expression, knowing that he probably shouldn't have mentioned the thing with Shmee at all. "Yeah. My second kiss was on my thirteenth birthday, which was also my official initiation into the Satanic religion. It was with a follower who had invoked the spirit of my father for the occasion. That was also my first time having sex. Her name was Ushkar: Queen of Malevolence, Daughter of Evil."

"That's. Definitely. Not. Normal."

"No, it's not. Feel better now?"

Better was definitely the last thing he felt in regards to this latest piece of information. "No. Pepito ...."

"Don't feel bad for me, Amigo. I don't feel bad about it, and I wasn't forced into it. Besides, Ushkar was hot."

"I'm ... going to go sleep on the couch."

As soon as Todd started to move, Pepito grabbed his right forearm. "Please don't. I didn't mean to freak you out, and I know I shouldn't be telling you all this right now, but ..."

His movement stilled, Todd sighed softly. "But, I _did_ ask." He felt a strange mix of emotions and they were making him decidedly uneasy. He was sure that the pity was unwanted, but had never seen Pepito that needy and vulnerable before. Staring into the darkness, he tried to think of some way to diffuse the tension, when suddenly Pepito's door opened in a slow motion that seemed methodical.

Both he and Pepito turned to face the entrance as dim light pored in from the hall. It seemed as if no one was there to have opened it, until they looked down to see an over-sized wolf with glowing yellow eyes.

Pepito let out a "humph" from the impact when Todd abruptly leaped back into his arms, clinging to him tightly and actually shaking a bit, at the sight of his dog. He couldn't help the huge smile, but he did manage to hold back the laughter as he wrapped a comforting arm around him. "It's okay, Squee. That's just Woofles. She likes to sleep in my room sometimes when she's home. She won't hurt you." He paused contemplatively as his smile grew bigger. "Well, she might think you're prey if you keep showing fear like this. And you _do_ make a sound like one of her squeaky toys."

Calming some at Pepito's explanation, Todd managed to stop shaking and loosen his grip enough to sit back own his own. "Heh. That's not helping."

Woofles trotted leisurely over to Pepito's bed, rising up to rest her forepaws on the comforter. She tilted her head inquisitively at the new boy, ears pointing straight up. "Urruff?"

"Hey, Woofles." Pepito petted her head a couple times, scratching behind an ear.

Todd was shocked that the intimidating 'dog' accepted the attention rather happily, even nuzzling Pepito's hand a little.

"This," Pepito gestured to Todd, "Is my Todd. He's very important, so we have to keep him safe, okay?"

His eyes widened at such a degrading introduction, but he didn't know what Woofles would do if he showed any aggression toward Pepito, even in jest. Instead, he went with sarcasm. "Thanks a lot, Pepito."

Pepito smiled wider and shrugged. "That's just how she understands things, Amigo." He patted the bed a few times. "C'mere Woofles!"

Woofles pounced on to the bed, making it shake a little from her weight. Once the mattress stabilized, she walked over to the boys, giving Todd a curious sniff. Though he was apparently a new person, he smelt satisfactorily enough like Pepito to appease her, so she raised her paw in greeting.

"Shake, Todd."

Hesitantly, Todd griped Woofles' paw very lightly, moving it up and down in sink with her. "Hi ... Woofles."

"Good boy."

When Pepito ruffled his hair in reward, Todd just _had_ to glare at him. When he spoke, it was in a cherry voice as not to provoke the dog. "You're a real jerk, you know that?"

"Heh heh. I know." He looked back to Woofles. "Seriously, Woofles, he's not a toy, okay?"

Woofles nodded.

"Did she really understand that?"

"Of course."

"Uh, Pepito, bad things tend to happen to animals around me. I told you about what happened to my kitten, and there was this puppy once and-"

"Relax, Squee. I'm pretty sure that's only around Shmee. And, anyway, Woofles will be fine." He turned to Woofles, ruffling her fur much as he had Todd's hair. "You're just as special as I am, right girl?"

She gave him another firm nod.

Pepito yawned once again. "Okay. I think it's time to go to sleep. Sleep Woofles."

She nuzzled him once again before curling up at the foot of the bed.

Sliding back into his sleeping bag, Pepito leaned over to press a another quick kiss to Todd's cheek before lying down completely. "Goodnight, Amigo."

Following the Pepito's lead, Todd wrapped himself in his own sleeping bag, laying his head against a plush pillow. "Goodnight, Pepito." He was a little surprised when Pepito's hand claimed his own, but he returned the hold loosely, feeling more secure.

-----------------------------------SCENE SHIFT-----------------------------

Zim had returned to his base in a pleasant mood after having seen plenty of human carnage in the silly alien-bug movie. He had even taken GIR on a walk to get a Suckmonkey before retreating into his lab to begin work on upgrading the pitiful cuddle instrument that he had received from Pepito. It was now speckled in chocolate bubble-gum Suckmonkey as a result of GIR's attempt to play with it, which he had eventually thwarted. "Computer, clean this hyumun thing."

A panel in the floor opened up, allowing a clear, circular washing machine to surface. A robotic arm extended from the device, stuffing the bear into the clear compartment, which soon filled with fluid. The fluid swirled around, moving the bear with it at high speed. After a few minutes, it came to a stop. The liquid drained, and the spinning began anew, drying the bear.

Zim tapped his three fingers in boredom against the console. Perhaps he should give Tenn a ring to inquire about anything she might know that could help him. She _had_ been assigned to invade the Meekrob home world, though the Meekrob differed somewhat from their more negatively focused kin and Tenn's mission had failed horribly for some reason. It was something to do with a large shipment of malfunctioning SIR units, but she was still alive.

Once the bear was dry, the arm placed it back on the console, and Zim looked it over. The bear was poofier now. He poked it. It fell over. Silly humans and their strange, useless playthings.

An Irken child would never be given something so ... huggable. It would engender too much emotion ... emotion such as the Dib had shown today. Zim suddenly shook his head as if trying to dislodge those thoughts. Something about them hurt ... mentally .... _emotionally_. He actually felt a little _bad_ for chastising the Dib for showing affection. It was almost as if he had traveled back in time to take the place of one of his former drill instructors, telling his younger self how very weak he was, how much of a failure he was as a soldier, as an Irken. At least the Dib had the courage to stand up for himself.

"Incoming transmission!"

He immediately snapped back to attention. "Is it from The Massive?"

"Negative."

"Of course not." It had been a good year and a half since the Tallest had contacted him instead of the other way around, not that they had ever initiated contact with him on a regular basis to begin with.

"The signal is originating from Earth, approximate distance: ten point two miles North East of this location."

He instantly began to panic. "Bitters! She knows about me! How? Why must this beee? Computer, quickly, one of my alternate disguises!" Black lekki bristled, changing position much faster than usual as he paced back and forth in front of his communication screen.

A robotic arm supplied him with a beige trench coat, a gray mustache and a pink top hat that was garnished with a fake flower, and he donned the custom as swiftly as possible. "Patch her through."

The screen flashed to static for a few milliseconds before displaying a tall, hunched Iorkian female. Typical of her species, she had tan skin. Hers was of a darker variety, though Iorkian skin varied greatly in shade from one individual to another. The back of her skull was speckled with roughly circular patches of green skin. Her horns were more thin and flexible than a Vortian's, but not quite so much as the lekki of the Irkens. She wore a long, black garment, not unlike the dress that he was so used to seeing her in, as well as dark goggles hiding her eyes ... perhaps because of their inferior nature. Her pak was a shiny, metallic gray. There were a few dents and scratch marks on its curved surface as well as two straps that secured it around her shoulders, much like the backpacks of the wormbabies at skool. For Iorkians, unlike Irkens, the pak was a very useful tool, but not vital to their existence. Behind her was the very same lab that he and the Dib had broken into the previous day.

"Hello, Zim."

"I am not Zim! I am a government human, working deep within a secret government base. "

"You're Zim."

"No! I belong to the FBI, which was founded to fight aliens such as yourself! Give up _now_, alien fiend!"

"Oh, you poor, doomed fool. I am not human, Zim. I can easily see though your ridiculous excuse for a disguise. You, however, have known me for six years without guessing my true identity until now. And Irkens call themselves superior beings. Please."

"We _are_ superior beings, lowly Iorkian beast. If you know who I am, then you must know that this planet belongs to the Irken Empire in all but name! Do not incur our wrath! Any hostile move on your part will be seen as an act of war."

"Earth? Belongs to the Irken Empire? Ha! Irk couldn't care less about this polluted ball of galactic waste! My people contacted your Tallest shortly after you joined my fifth grade classroom. Your mission is a lie, Zim. The Armada is never coming. The only reason you're still alive is because you're too pathetic to be a threat to my mission ... and you keep that nosy human boy, Dib, distracted."

"You lie!"

"If you don't believe me, why don't you give the Tallest a call, hum? I'll be happy to watch as they tear your little world completely apart."

"I don't need to call the Tallest! They wouldn't lie to me! I am Zim!" The truth was, he couldn't ask them. The 'glorious secret mission' had always seemed too good to be true. Then Tak and Sizzlor had told him this very thing, but he just couldn't bring himself to find out the truth because he was deeply afraid of what that might be. What if his mission _was_ a lie? What would the Tallest do then? What would he do then, assuming he was allowed to live? Instead, he had continued with his usually self-sabotaged schemes to take over the Earth, only rarely making a genuine effort. After all, if he had actually conquered the Earth, he would have had to contact the Massive and find out the truth.

"I'll tell you what, Zim. How about I give you a little extra credit assignment? You see, I have a little problem that I need taken care of. I know that you and Dib have been to my base, so I am giving you the benefit of a doubt that you probably do not deserve. You know about my mission, yes?"

Zim said nothing, though his pride prompted him to confirm the question. He had no way of knowing which answer would yield the least horrible results.

Bitters seemed to take his silence as a 'yes'. "I have lost one of the components in one of my most important experiments. And energy-based life form named Shmee has escaped his issued confine. It seems that he was isolated for a number of years, and it wreaked havoc with his mental stability. This whole situation has me in somewhat of a bind because it has the potential to ruin a very important business transaction for my people. I need for him to be captured and returned to me without the Earth being alerted to his presence. And you need an Empire of your own, correct?"

"An Empire of my very own?"

"Exactly. You could raise an army in an attempt to gain the power that you have always wanted. This is my proposition to you: If you manage to capture the entity known as Shmee and return him to me, preferably along with Todd Casil, with the Earth none the wiser, then, after my mission is complete, I will take all of the humans who are of use to my clients and leave this planet, and the remaining majority of the population, under your control."

The Irken rubbed his chin in thought. Maybe if he conquered and subdued the planet without any help from the Armada, the Tallests would reinstate him as an Invader, even if they _had_ sent him on this mission to die. Still, he was Zim, and no one told Zim what to do! "And what if I refuse?"

"Then I will simply activate the sleeper program that you have inadvertently installed into your base's computer along with my incripted code, effectively destroying your base. If you manage to escape the blast, you'll be stuck here, defenseless and alone, for the rest of your futile life."

"You dare threaten Zim!" Frag! Why hadn't his computer picked that up!

"Yes. Yes, I do."

"Oh. Well, in that case," He smiled his best friendly smile. "What percentage of the population are we talking about here?"

"I'll be taking only about one percent to four percent. This will actually benefit you, as the ones I plan on taking will probably be ones who would most challenge your control anyway."

"I see. That sounds good. Veeerrry good. But, I want to keep one. Someone who may belong to that group." The Dib was definitely the challenging type.

"Dib? That's disgusting, Zim, even for you. Emotional attachment is such a weak thing. Did you pick that up here, or is that why you're so defective to begin with?" Her voice remained monotone, even during the insult.

"Silence! You outdated, rusty, curved-spined excuse for a teaching drone! The Dib is _my_ enemy, and I shall decide his fate or no deal!"

"Huh. Fine. You can keep the meddlesome little brat. His gigantic head probably wouldn't have fit in my transport unit anyway."

"Heh heh. That's a good point." Wait! He shouldn't be agreeing with the enemy! But, Dib's head _was_ big.

"Do we have an agreement?"

"Eh. Sure. Why not?"

"Good. I'm sending you all the information that your computer should need to construct a suitable storing unit for Shmee. I'm sure you can manage the Casil kid on your own."

"Of course."

* * *

END CHAPTER!

Notes:

-I made GIR call Dib "Mary" because he when he did it in Mopiness of Doom (when telling Dib how much Zim needs him to chase him) I nearly died of subtext ZADR overdose. For anyone who doesn't know, "Mary" is a generic nickname for a gay man. The show GIR is talking about was inspired by Will and Grace.

-"An evil soufflé needs time to rise." is a quote by Stephen Colbert.

-Anaphasic life forms come from Star Trek (especially TNG episode "Sub Rosa", which may be a rip off of The Witching Hour). The word "anaphasic" is used very inappropriately in Star Trek, as well as here. Star Trek's explanation for anaphasic life forms is a lot o technobabble BS, so I've dropped some of it. Still, some of it is useful and funny, despite being baseless. Both anaphasic life forms and the Meekrob are beings of pure energy, a common scifi theme that is never well developed from a scientific standpoint (but, still possible).

-Pepito's love of Fire Nachos and Starship Troopers comes from the extra art at the back of Squee's Wonderful Big Giant Book of Unspeakable Horrors, specifically the one with Pepi and Squeegee watching Tv by Rikki Simons and Tarvish Wolfgarth-Simons. In the picture, it was called "Starship Poopers", but as a Robert Heinlein fan that title felt sacrilegious.

-Squee's growing fascination with things that he once considered scary was inspired by the "Sleep Deprived Introduction" to Squee's Wonderful Big Giant Book of Unspeakable Horrors. Here a little bit of it for those not lucky enough to have the book: "I remember starting off the Squee series with a mention of how I used to hide under the covers like a little burrito when it came time for me to go to bed as a wee Jhonen. And here I am, typing this all out while lying in bed, the blankets over my head and lit by the screen of this little computer. It never ceases to freak me out, just how things have developed since those times-the very things that horrified me as that little burrito version of myself are the same things that I now derive comfort from. The uncertainty of what might be around the corner, or at the foot of the bed, or even in peoples pants, is what makes the tedium of real life tolerable." -The Almighty Jhonen Vasquez

-About Gaz in this chapter: I think a lot of people were more freaked out by this than I thought they would be. At first I was going to try to make Gaz a little more soft (still might), but then, after talking to others about her character (back when I was thinking about making this Gaz/Squee), I decided that maybe I should go in another direction.  
Everyone is always talking about how Zim has no emotions (I don't buy that..he even shows empathy to the little wormbaby at the end of Hamstergetton), but Gaz shows much less in the show. All I've observed are: self-interest, sadism, sadistic humor and vengeful anger. These are the basic traits of a sociopath. The only thing close to more ...adjusted emotion that I've seen is what could, possibly, be interpreted as a need to be "normal" and have a real family. Basically, I wanted to make her a little more socially inclined and this is what happened. She's still pretty apathetic, but the social games entertain her much like video games.

-Obviously, I don't condone rape. Everything from Deerog's pov was actually supposed to convey how terrible it is, especially the part where he realizes what he himself has been guilty of. Rape is basically extreme objectification (seeing living things as objects, sex toys, defining them by sexual acts that they may or may not preform..this happens to women and homosexuals a lot in our society and (as Gaz does) seeing them as simply a means to an end (in Deerog's case, an end to doom Chunck). However, this story is not told from my POV, but from that of the characters. Their beliefs at times conflict with my own and each other's.

-Zim's first words were: "I love you, cold, unfeeling robot arm!" From: Parent Teacher Night.

-According to S. L. MacGregor Mathers (a very important occult scholar from in the late 1800s and early 1900s): "The Twenty-seventh Spirit is Ronove. He appeareth in the Form of a Monster. He teacheth the Art of Rhetoric very well and giveth Good Servants, Knowledge of Tongues, and Favours with Friends or Foes. He is a Marquis and Great Earl; and there be under his command 19 Legions of Spirits."

-Number five of the Eleven Satanic Rules of the Earth (from The Church of Satan): "Do not make sexual advances unless you are given the mating signal."

-Info about Satanic Magic: "LaVey names three types of Satanic ritual:

Lust Rituals are conducted for the purpose of sexually attracting a person of your choice. LaVey specifies that you must have a particular person, or at least type of person, in mind for this to have any chance of success.

Compassion Rituals are performed for the gain of those you care for, or on one's own behalf. The purpose is to increase worldly gain for the target, whether it be a friend or yourself. Any ritual aimed at gaining material wealth, physical advantage, or increase in life station falls into this category.

Destruction Rituals are otherwise known as curses or hexes, and are employed for the destruction of one's enemies. This is from a summary of the Satanic Bible on Wikipedia, which is actually pretty accurate, though I get a lot of this stuff from the book.

-Mary Thomas is the little girl who Squee claimed told him he had cooties when trying to convince the aliens not to take him in the comics, so...technically not an OC.

-"Ushkar, queen of malevolence, daughter of evil" is from Boy Meets World, "The Witches of Pennbrook" episode. You can read the transcript here:

http//www. geocities. com/porkboy5556/WitchesofPennbrook. Html

You can download the episode, and others, here:

http//community. Livejournal.

-Quote from John Allee of The First Church of Satan: "When a child reaches puberty, which is the age of sexual consent according to nature, parents no longer are able to control the child's sexual behavior. You cannot be with that child every hour of every day. If you find yourself acting as moral arbiter in the life of your sexually active teen, twenty, or thirty year old, it's time to get a life! A natural instinct is the urge to protect a child, but only to a certain point - when you go beyond that point, healthy, natural instinct turns to unhealthy, unnatural obsession. Most successful parents will tell you that the vast majority of instilling ethics and morals into your children is done by the time they reach 12 years old. There are laws, existing laws that protect people of all ages from rape and sexual harassment. We strongly suggest that these laws be enforced." This POV is the main inspiration for Pepito lossing is virginity at 13. It's also pretty common in Mexico for for boys (usually with a prositute), and in this fic he has Mecian relatives and has spent some time there ... though he's not really into the kind of machismo that's usually associated with that double-standard (Rosemary would kick is butt and demonic society counteracts it as well).


	11. Chapter 11

**Sublime Awakenings Chapter Eleven: Auguries of Innocence**

**

* * *

**Warnings: Violence, minor OC character death, sexual innuendo, a sickeningly cute, magical baby beaver (fear him!), kissing (m/m)

* * *

"Johnny, slow down! Do you know how hard it is to speed-walk in heels?" Elize was practically jogging down the sidewalk in an attempt to keep up with his long and angry strides.

Instead of obliging, Johnny only sped up even more, hoping that Elize would trip in her stilettos and impale herself on a broken beer bottle. He kept to the shadows, what little that was still human inside warning him to hide his blood-drenched form from the others, though he had long known that no one would ever notice. Oh, other humans noticed him often enough, usually to ridicule him for his appearance or some other superficial triviality. They noticed his victims as well, after they were dead. But, they never seemed to notice him while he was killing. Not only was killing a good, if momentary, outlet for his rage against those assholes who dared mock him, it was also safe from the rest of society, from those that would so carelessly toss their emotional excrement into his being as if he were a human trash compactor, if only they could see him. If he were a house-wife, the equivalent might be a long, private bubble bath.

"Yeah, a private bath filled with the blood of your family and dinner guests."

"What!" Johnny turned his head sharply in Elize's direction, watching her scantily clad, borrowed form pass under streetlights as they walked. Every time the light hit her, he had to fight to keep looking at her painfully familiar face. "Did you just read my fucking mind? Is nothing sacred anymore?"

"Nny, babe, once you've crossed over, you're constantly surrounded by the spiritual. Everything is sacred, and at some point everything and nothing kind of run together, ya know? You've met God. You know."

"Damn it, Elize! You know what I mean! Keep your freaky, demonic powers off my brain-meats! And fucking stop imitating people that I know! I will kill you, you know. If those petty fuckers in the club could touch you, before I chopped off their disgusting hands, then I can too!"

"Why, Nny, I thought you weren't interested in touch. And this body isn't exactly alive. It is a focused effort on my part to make my spirit more solid. It's not a true incarnation. You can touch, but you still can't kill me. And I'm not a demon."

"Oh, well, excuse me, discarnate Satanic minion. Real big difference, I'm sure."

"Nope. Wrong again. I'm not a Satanist either."

"Then ... why do you work for the Devil! Huh? And why do you keep calling him the 'Dark Lord'?"

"I don't. I do the job that I've been assigned by the administration, whose orders come down through the offices in Heaven and Hell, as well as other afterlives. I work in both Heaven and Hell. And, rarely, on Earth. 'Lord' is just a soical title in Hell, kind of like on Earth in the middle ages ... and as for the 'dark' part, well, I just think it's funny."

"Exactly what is this "administration" that I keep hearing about?"

"Oh, I don't really know for sure. It's all very mysterious. Señor Diablo might know, but if so, he's never told me."

"So, the afterlife is a hierarchy with information passed down on a need to know basis? That seems like a pretty screwed up way to run a spiritual system." He looked down to the sidewalk, kicking a can out of his way and avoiding the face for which he had been suppressing a desire to look upon for years now, though it often played a role in dreams, which he also tried to avoid. "Is part of your job to torture me?"

"Nope, that's just an added bonus. Tell ya what, though. When we get back to your tumble-down shack, I'll let you torture me for a while."

"You want me to torture you?"

"Sure. Might be fun. That little massacre back at the club was nothing compared to the leather scene in Hell. Plus, I don't experience pain the way a living person does, and I have more control over what I allow myself to feel." She paused to send him a knowing smile. "I'm great at role-play, and I know that a part of you still wants to create the perfect moment with Devi ... before immortalizing it, of course. Which part would you enjoy the most? I would guess-"

Johnny came to a full stop before suddenly lunging at Elize, pulling out one of his, still bloody, knives mid-leap. His outstretched, left arm came into contact first, pushing her back and against the side of a Hot Dog on a Stick stand, hard. He held her there by the shoulder, raising the knife high into the air with his right hand. "Shut-the-fuck-up!" With that, he brought the blade down into her chest. It sank in deep, even making a screeching sound as it cut into the metal of the stand behind her. He pulled it out forcefully, raising it again. "Stay out of my goddamn head! And never, ever talk about Devi again!" The knife went in, more quickly this time, before being lifted yet again. "And stop wearing her face!" He stabbed her again, this time twisting the knife to maximize pain, but she still wasn't dead ... or more dead or whatever term one would call the death of a discarnate spirit ... exercised? She wasn't even screaming her undead lungs out. "Why can't I kill you?! Damn! Fuck! And other such obscenities!"

As Johnny threw his useless knife to the ground in a fit of rage, Elize burst out laughing, at the same time losing her semi-physical form and slipping back into her usual appearance. Maintaining the more solid form for as long as she had took a lot of energy, especially with Johnny trying to hack away at it. Still, it was so worth it.

When he grunted and tried to give her an angry kick to the shins, his leg went right through her, hitting the hot dog stand and making it rock lightly back and forth.

"Hey! Who's back there!"

They exchanged bewildered looks as the sound of the side door to the stand opening and slamming shut made its way to them. Heavy footsteps followed, and Johnny turned his gaze to the corner of the stand, where a chubby Hot Dog on a Stick worker emerged from the shadows.

The man looked around in confusion as his eyes adjusted to the lack of light. He looked around the area where the sounds had come from, assessing the damage to his place of employment, before settling his sights on the perpetrator of the ruckus that had disturbed his nap. "Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing, you noodle-thin asshole! I just got hired here, and already there's property damage on my shift!"

"What did you just call me?"

"I said you're a noodle-thin asshole! Your circumference is that of a noodle! Do you hear me? A Noodle!"

"Noodle? Noodle! How dare you!" Johnny found himself wishing he hadn't abandoned his knife, but surely there was some acceptable instrument of death around here somewhere, probably just inside the hot dog stand. His eyes narrowed as he took cold and calculated steps toward the man. If he couldn't kill Elize, at least he could rid the world of this slime.

As the dark, sinister and skinny man stepped into the light of the nearest lamp, the clerk's eyes widened in shocked fear. The noodle-man was covered in what could only be drying blood. Shaking and suddenly conscious of the radio broadcast about a mass killing earlier that evening at a local strip-club, the man backed up the way he had come. "Y-you. It was you. You killed all those people."

"Yesss." Continuing his advance, Johnny smiled his biggest, widest, most psychotic smile. He could see the man trembling, sweating. He could almost smell the fear. Fear was an instinctual human reaction, designed by nature to help them act quickly to escape danger, but for this man it was already far too late. He knew. By the time they knew, they were already in his web. It was as if the unconscious certainty of their impending death broke through some barrier in the conscious mind, making them see, for a remaining few seconds, with a kind of clarity that the living world, the human world, seemed to blot out. In that one moment, they were no longer merely human. They were no longer limited by their egos. They were immortal. Eternity in a grain of sand. And he would make that moment last forever.

Elize watched with a near blank, hollow expression as Johnny stalked his victim, who had looked right through her, both of them disappearing around the corner of the stand, to the front of it, where an impact and the rocking of the booth made it apparent that the clerk had been forced into it. The rocking intensified as loud screams rose from the white, rectangular structure.

Even though she had spent so much time working in Hell, and despite her claims to the contrary, this sort of senseless cruelty still made her a little sick inside. She sighed dejectedly. Johnny was such a disjointed mess, just like always. She honestly had no idea what the administration, whoever they were, were thinking when they chose him as a waste lock.

She did, however; have some idea why Señor Diablo had choosen her for this assignment. He must have known that they would drive each other crazy, or in Johnny's case, more crazy. The Devil certainly had a fucked up sense of humor, and maybe, with the way she had been enjoying teasing Johnny, it was contagious. Still, if anyone deserved this kind of treatment, it was him. And, he did owe her for all that time she had to spend doing janitorial work after his little head-explody incident in Heaven. Not to mention the burritos. She shuddered a little at the memories.

When the screaming died down, she made her way to the front of the stand, leaning on the service counter to observe the wreck of a human being on the other side ... and the newly dead body of his latest victim as well. "Done yet?"

At the sound of her voice, Johnny popped up from behind the counter, holding a freshly prepared hot dog on a stick. "Yep."

Just as he was about to hop over the counter and carry on his not-so-merry way home, a sleek, red car pulled up to the curve directly in front of them. It was shortly followed by a new, white Volkswagen Beetle, with a painted image of a hot dog on a stick and red, yellow and blue letters spelling out the name. A graying blond woman in a dress suit exited the automobile, making haste to the booth. Once there, she addressed him with barely hidden impatience, obviously having better things to do at this time of night.

"Hi. I'm Glenda, one of the owners of this city's Hot Dog on a Stick franchise. You're Joe, right?"

Johnny stared blankly at the woman before him. He was still very much covered in blood, a fresh layer of red on top of dried brown that reminded him of the wall in one of the upper levels of his basement that he used to paint, but she seemed completely oblivious to this fact, too wrapped up in her own world to notice anything that she didn't already expect from a service worker.

"Right, so as the new manager of this unit, you get the privilege of driving a company car." She used a thumb to point behind her, indicating the beetle. "So, here ya go." Holding out a set of keys, she waited a few seconds for the new, creepy employee to take them. When he showed no signs of doing so, she shrugged and placed them on the counter before turning to go. "Well, have a productive night. Gotta make sure we give the Taco Smell a run for the late night business."

As she walked away, Johnny tilted his head to the side, giving the keys a contemplative look. He had lost his old, run down car about a year ago after an accident involving a large batch of newly ripened laser-weasels, a city-wide black-out and two strange teenagers who managed to run fast enough to escape greasily fates, all the while being too focused on each other to even notice that they were in danger. Biting off a chunk of his hot dog, he shrugged and grabbed the keys nonchalantly before throwing his legs over the counter. Maybe this night wasn't a complete waste after all.

The trunk space was a little tight, but with enough bending and folding or chopping, he was sure he could manage to make it accommodate his needs. But that paint job would have to go, lest he find himself driving through busy streets, shouting loudly from the driver's window, 'Witness my Weenie-Mobil! The Weenie compels you!'. He didn't even want to contemplate the twisted puns that Reverend Meat would surely play off such a display.

By the time they arrived back at his 'tumble down shack', Johnny was once again scathing with anger. As it turned out, painting a car yourself was tougher than it sounded, and he didn't exactly have enough extra money laying around to pay for the outrageous professional job that the automotive department of the local Stall Mart had recommended. In the end, he had decided against using the blood of said workers for the job ... the color wouldn't stay anyway. He had bought several bottles of spray-on paint, the shade of his hair ... or what was left of it. The home method would take a lot more time and patience than he was accustomed to giving any task besides torture, though. Maybe he could scrap up enough money around the house to pay someone else to do it. He wasn't sure how much he had, but he did have several uncashed checks for Happy Noodle Boy hidden in the floorboard with a gun that he would only use on himself.

In the meantime, the Weenie-mobile was parked in his driveway. Angrily, he threw the door open, making the hinges creek. Elize followed silently behind him. She had been conspicuously quiet during the ride, making him wonder if she had something else up the sleeve of her white dress shirt. He turned sharply, giving her a suspicious and cutting glare, which he held for a full minute without blinking. Finally, he shrugged, turning back around and heading for the first floor bedroom, which he never used for sleeping.

Damned Elize held the homicidal maniac's gaze levelly, rolling her eyes when he turned back around before following him into what was probably the cleanest, and most unused, room in the house. She stopped a few feet past the doorway to watch as he made his way to the dresser to the left of the bed. On said dresser, in front of a mirror with hundreds of cracks and traces of old blood, there was a tacky old figurine of a Bub's Burger Boy. It stared forward with big, glassy eyes with no irises. "Where the hell did you get that thing?"

"Quiet! Do you hear that?"

"What?"

"Exactly! Nothing! He's gone! Just like the Dough Boys were gone after the last time I flushed."

"He? Johnny, the figure is right there. Did you sniff some of that paint when I wasn't looking?"

"Yes, but he's not talking!"

"Yes, you did sniff the paint?"

"No!" He rounded on her, waving his arms in the air in a quick, sporadic motion. "Pay-a-fucking-ttention! Just a few hours ago you were all over my brain and now you suddenly don't know what the hell I'm talking about? Stop fucking with me!"

"I thought you wanted me to stay out of your head, but fine, whatever." She took a few more steps into the room. "Is it good or bad that he's gone?"

"I'm ... unsure." His eyes narrowed as he scanned the room for anything new, anything out of place, anything that he didn't remember being there. "There!" A bony finger flung itself out swiftly in front of him, pointing to the middle of the bed. The bed was made up, as it undoubtedly had been when he moved in, with a traditional floral patterned comforter that had grown ragged over the years. It was covered in a good two inches of dust, but now, lying on top of it, was a light brown, fluffy baby beaver. It was almost small enough to fit into the palm of his hand ... as he squeezed the undeserved life out of it.

Elize's eyes followed the direction of his pointed finger, her face clouding in confusion. "You have a pet? A living pet?"

"Of course I don't! At least I didn't! I haven't had a pet since Nail-bunny stopped talking, unless you count Mr. Samsa. But he's really more like a role model. " He looked back, pointedly, to the beaver. "You! What are you doing here? Speak!"

The beaver sat up, exposing its belly and looking at Johnny C. with big shiny eyes. Without moving its mouth, it spoke in an upbeat, high tone. "Why, hello there, Nny. I'm Waffle! I was sent because you need a better role model than an immortal cockroach. I can teach you to be a good person without becoming cold and without emotion like an insect! Isn't that just great?"

-----------------------------------SCENE SHIFT----------------------------

Rosemary gave her only son's bedroom door a few soft knocks before daring to open it half a foot so that she might peek inside. She breathed out a relieved sigh at not finding Pepito and Todd in another compromising position. Both boys appeared to be clothed and they even occupied separate sleeping bags. Actually, she had to admit that they looked pretty cute holding hands like that.

Seeing Woofles raise her head in alert, she entered the room fully, taking a few steps towards the bed. "Good morning, Woofles."

"Woof." Woofles yawned, rising to all fours before jumping off the bed to head down in hopes of breakfast.

A shift of weight jolted the mattress, disrupting Pepito's dream. As the fog of sleep threatened to lift, he unconsciously tried to cling to its intangible substance. Unlike the other dream that he'd had that night, this one wasn't a replay of finding Todd unconscious and bleeding to death on Johnny's floor. It wouldn't make him wake up in a cold sweat, on the verge of screaming his name and in bad need of a cigarette that he wasn't willing to get up for. Rolling onto his side to face him, he pulled Todd's hand against his chest, draping his other arm over him. His voice was a groggy mumble. "Nuhh, quit moving, Amigo."

Rosemary managed to stifle a few giggles, highly tempted to make a quick run for her camera. It seemed that she loved to collect blatantly human moments in her son's life. Her personal photo album, which was separate from the official family photo album, was almost a compilation of evidence; evidence that Pepito really was half human; that he really was half _hers_. It wasn't really that such moments were terribly rare, especially not since he had become a teenager, but being the mother of the Alter Boy of Doom was a very difficult position for a Christian. On the one hand, she did have certain duties as a mother and wife. And she did love her son and husband. On the other, they were, by definition, the adversary of humanity, if not her God.

She knew that this must be the preordained role that God had chosen for her, so she must have the strength to carry it out, but sometimes she felt that strength running thin. Sometimes, she wanted to cut and run, leave her whole life behind, maybe join a convent. Sometimes she was almost resentful of God for choosing her for that role. The Bible allowed a believing spouse to grant an unbelieving one, as well as their children, sanctification through their own faith and works, but she doubted that held true for her case. Sometimes, she thought that it was all just a terrible mistake or some great failing on her own part.

Sometimes, it seemed unfair that it was her Christian duty to give birth to the destruction of the human race; that in a way it was Pepito's as well, though she was sure he didn't see it that way, and that his duty would bring his own damnation. Like Judas, his role was a necessity in God's plan, and also like Judas, he would pay a hefty price for playing the role that would bring salvation. Or so tradition said.

Shaking the disturbing thoughts from her head, Rosemary made her way to one of the windows in the bedroom, drawing back the curtains to let the morning light illuminate it. "Pepi, honey, it's Mom."

Rays of light seemed to pierce through his lovely fog, making him blink in awareness. He had to fight back an urge to bury his head under the pillow. "Mother? What time is it?" Rolling back onto his back to see her, he could also see Todd waking up and stretching out of the corner of his eye.

"It's half passed nine. Unless you have an objection, _a nontheological one,_ I'm about to leave for Church." As Pepito begrudgingly sat up, she leaned over his bed to give him a quick hug. "Your father has already left for work, and breakfast is on the table."

"Oh. Okay. Have fun ..." Pepito paused briefly to return the hug and raise a hand to his mouth as he yawned. "... or some overrated, repressed variation thereof." It was a rather weak reprisal, but after her previous remark, he felt obligated to try. Besides, he figured he deserved some leeway for only have been awake three minutes. For some reason, neither of his parents seemed very inclined to let him sleep in on the weekends, even when he had no obligations which needed attendance.

Rosemary smirked as her hand rose from Pepito's back to smack him lightly on the back of the head. "Don't take that tone with me, young man, or you'll be helping your father rearrange the basement all next weekend."

"Ouch, Mom!" He rubbed the back of his head, trying his best to appear sullen, as his mother stood to leave. "You wouldn't really make me rearrange the basement just for that, would you?"

"Rearranging the basement" had become code for any major dealings with large groups of the Damned in Hell over the years. It was something that Pepito hated dearly. The problem with Hell was that not many people wanted to go there. The people who ended up there were usually people who believed, consciously or unconsciously, that Hell was a horrible place and that they deserved to be there. They were generally wretched, ignorant cretins, who basically supplied their own torture, as well as that of anyone else who bothered with them. Plus, they were already dead, so destroying them was an act in futility. It was like shacking a hornets nest.

"We'll see." She dropped her serious facade at the door to give him a small smile, not wanting him to dread a fake punishment all day. "Oh, if you leave the house, leave me a note. And leave your cell phone on for once."

"Alright, Mother." Pepito returned the smile, leaning back against his pillow.

"Bye, Sweetie. Bye, Todd."

"Goodbye, Mother. Thanks for breakfast."

"You're welcome, hun."

As Pepito's mother closed the door to leave, Todd finally sat up, having watched the interaction with amusement. Through it was argumentative, there was a playfulness to it that made it was obvious that the two loved each other. He hoped that Pepito knew how lucky he was to have a mother who actually responded positively to his existence, even if they did have their differences.

When the door closed, Pepito unzipped his sleeping bag the rest of the way, turning back to Todd. "Morning, Todd." He smiled brightly at his messy hair, aware of how fortunate he was to actually have his best friend with him in person after all those years of making due with mail and phone calls. "How did you sleep?"

When Todd only grinned dazedly, Pepito leaned closer, looking into his eyes as if trying to establish a mental connection. His brown eyes were a little lighter than normal and shinier too. "Want some breakfast?"

"Breakfast?" The smile grew as Todd meet Pepito's gaze.

"Yeah." Pepito laughed a little. "You know, that meal that some people eat in the morning? Supposedly primary in both order and importance? Mother insists on making it whenever possible."

The smile grew even _more_. Just as Pepito was starting to worry that Todd was having some sort of real mental breakdown, he lunged forward, hugging him tightly. The worry boarded on fear. "Do they ... uh ... not serve breakfast at the institute?"

"Heh. They serve gruel for breakfast, but that's not it. I didn't have a nightmare." Todd released him, settling back into his own personal space, smile still intact. "I didn't take the medication, and I didn't have a nightmare! That's never happened before. At least not since I was really little."

"Really? That's great!" Pepito smiled back, relieved that his spell had done its work, and that Todd was still relatively sane. "And hey, you used both arms for the hug! Didn't that hurt?"

Todd looked surprised, staring at his left arm as if it would produce an explanation. "No, it didn't. Do you think ... no. It couldn't have healed _that_ fast, could it?"

Pepito shrugged. "There's only one way to find out." He scooted a little closer to Todd, motioning for him to place the arm in his out held hand.

Taking a deep breath, Todd complied. He closed his eyes as Pepito unwrapped his arm, silently hoping that it hadn't mutated into something freakish and unnatural. When he heard a gasp, he forced his eyes open to see that his arm had almost completely healed overnight. All that was left of the previous gash was a long, thin, red line: a scar.

"Incredible." Pepito raised his free hand to gently run a finger down the scar, which subtly protruded from Todd's arm. It wasn't completely healed, because then it would probably be more white than red and lay flat against the rest of his skin. Still, that was one fast-acting healing ointment. Half way down, they locked eyes. "Does that hurt at all?"

As the tip of a smooth finger ghosted down his arm, Todd bit his lip. He took a deep breath to steady his voice before answering. "A little, but mostly it just ... tickles horribly."

At this information Pepito's mouth formed a triumphant smirk that easily carried over into his voice. "Tickles? Horribly, you say?"

Todd's eyes widened as he realized his mistake, before narrowing on the other. His arm wasn't crippled this time, so he would have a fair chance ... as long as Pepito didn't use his 'super Satanic powers'. "Don't even think about it, Pepi."

Smiling at the playful challenge, Pepito arched at eyebrow. "Oh, yeah? What are you gonna do about it ... _Squee-gee_?"

Lowering his head in mock defeat, Todd let his arm lay limply in the grip of his friend until he felt that grip loosen. This probably wasn't a good idea so soon, but Pepito was just too smug, so it couldn't be helped.

"Todd?"

"This!" He quickly flipped his hand over, using it to grab Pepito's before pouncing him unto the bed. Because of the sneaky nature of his attack, he was able to get in a good deal of tickling before the Pepito recovered enough to fight back, and by then he had to fight his own laughing as well as Todd's tickling.

Pepito laughed nearly uncontrollably at the unexpected maneuver, tickling back the best he could with his free hand, but still trying not to be too rough with the healing boy so soon. "Haha! Squee ... hehe ... you little ... ha ... cheat! Haha ... hehehe!"

"Me? Ha! Yesterday ... haha ... I couldn't even fight back! Ahh!" It _still_ wasn't really fair because Pepito knew where he was most ticklish! "Heh heh. Hey, where are you most ... hehe ... ticklish?"

Pepito laughed even harder at the bluntness of the question. "Haha. Hasn't ... anyone ever told ... you not to ... hehe ... give away ... secret ... battle ... strategy ... hehe ... intel ... hahaha."

"Ha hehhah ... nooooo! Whhoo-ow ... told you that? Heheheeh ... Karl Rove?"

A hand rose from Todd's hips to fist in the front of his shirt so that Pepito could pull him down, closing the distance between their bodies and effectively stopping the tickling. They both continued to laugh reflexively, taking deep breaths for almost a full minute, foreheads resting against one another. Once he had regained the ability, Pepito smirked again. "It's somewhere that you probably wouldn't want to stick your hand."

"What?"

"My most ticklish spot."

"Oh."

Pepito smiled widely, revealing two short, fang-like canines, as Todd blushed brightly. Suddenly, he gripped the hand that had held his own down, flipping them over so that he was on top.

Todd gave an exasperated sigh, throwing back his head to laugh a little once again before meeting the Pepito's eyes. "I knew you couldn't allow it to end that way. Your pride just won't let you lose, will it?"

"Hey, I wasn't losing. I was just ... uh ... winning on the bottom. Besides, I know your weak spot. The way I see it, it was a draw. At best."

"Oh, please. You're just in denial."

"Am I?" Using his right hand that held Todd's left to the bed to loosen both their grips, sPepito smoothed Todd's hand flat against the bed, sweaty palms rubbing together, before once again running a finger slowly down the scar on his arm. As he did this, he voice dropped a little lower, almost to a whisper, as if sharing a secret. "I think you're merely afraid to find my spot."

As Pepito's finger traced the scar, Todd's breath caught and he found himself holding it as not to laugh. When the finger reached his elbow, he let it out with a small chuckle before somehow managing to speak in the same almost-whisper as Pepito, even as he traced the scar back up to his hand, leaving goose bumps on the sensitive skin. "And I think you just want me to touch you in ... places."

When Pepito reached Todd's wrist again, his hand slid back up to hold his hand, fingers interlocking without conscious effort on either of their parts. His head moved down just a little lower, just barely brushing the sides of their noses together. This time his voice was a true whisper. "I think you might be right."

The feel of breath on his lips made Todd's heart beat faster, and their chests were so close that he could tell Pepito's was doing the same. His grip on the other's hand tightened without his consent as they both came closer and closer, ever so slowly. As it did, Pepito's thumb gently stroked his hand, sending ripples of warmth through his body. The fiery brown eyes were at half mast when his own closed, seconds before they touched. It was a gentle mingling of soft, warm lips that lasted only about ten seconds, but left his own lips tingling with a strange, ecstatic kind of energy.

Pepito took the kiss extra slow, wanting to give Todd every chance to back out and fully expecting it right up until their lips actually touched. When they did, he felt an odd heat bloom in his stomach, which spread throughout his body, up to his fingertips, which trembled slightly, and down to his very toes. That had never happened before. He had never been this excited about a simple kiss in all his life, and he had had more than his fair share of kisses, not to mention anything more. Somehow, he felt the same intensity, the same nervousness, as with his very first kiss, but in a completely different way.

Slowly, Pepito removed his lips from Todd's, leaning up and watching as his eyes blinked open, then widened in shock. His blush faded slightly as his face began to pale, though his cheeks remained pink. Pepito swallowed a lump in his throat before speaking in a hushed, worried tone. "Todd?"

The sound of Pepito's voice helped to break through the shock, and Todd forced himself to blink away the jarred stare. He felt a twinge of annoyance with himself. It wasn't as if he had never seen Pepito's demon side before. It had just been a while. Even so, during that time he had grown used to thinking of him as a human. The little demon-boy that he had met in second grade seemed almost unreal, like an old nightmare or a spooky fantasy, which was, in fact, just what he had thought it had been until that very week.

Even though he now knew, intellectually, that Pepito was what he was, actually seeing it mere inches from his face somehow made it more _real_. Still, he couldn't allow himself to be afraid simply because of something that he already knew was true, something that didn't change who Pepito was. He refused to hurt him over that again, as he had done so many times as a kid and again just the day before. When he finally spoke, his voice, still barely above a whisper, shook only slightly. "It's okay. I'm not afraid."

Pepito's brow furrowed in confusion until he noticed that his hand holding Todd's was glowing a light green, his mortal skin tone making it appear almost a soft olive. "Shit."

He immediately sat up, releasing his hand and moving off of him. Automatically, his hands went to his head, feeling two horns, now almost three inches long and beginning to curve toward the back of his head. His infernal manifestation was showing. It must have been because of his overly emotional reaction to the kiss. But nothing like that had happened so completely in years! And Todd hadn't seen him like that since second grade. He removed his hands from the horns, looking back to Todd, who had sat up after him. "Amigo ... I ... I'm ..."

Todd bit his lip in worry. Pepito rarely cursed unless he was really upset, another odd characteristic for the Antichrist, but one that made sense when one considered that both of his parents held good manners in such high regard. He got up on his knees, moving closer to him before sitting back down on his own legs. "Please don't. Don't apologize. Don't be sorry."

"But, are you ...?"

"I'm okay." Taking his hand, eyes lingering a little on the naturally black nails of the infernal form before seeking out Pepito's own, which were now two different shades of red, Todd smiled. "Better than okay. It's ... it's good to see the truth for myself."

Pepito stared back in uncertain surprise. "You're ... really not afraid?"

"No." As his free hand slowly moved up to touch Pepito's face, Todd moved closer, feeling a hand light gently on his own shoulder. The skin was still the same, soft and mostly smooth, though the temperature was a little higher. Pepito's eyes searched his own questioningly as he drew his face up, about an inch from the others. "I'm not afraid." It was more like an intelligible breath than words, followed by a light, but sure, peck to the lips.

When Todd drew back slightly, still smiling, Pepito slowly smiled back. He could feel a strange warmness throughout his body that made his eyes moist, and he hoped that he wasn't going to cry. "Then I'm not sorry." He used the hand on the Todd's shoulder to pull him closer, and then they were kissing again, arms wrapping around one another. They shared a sequence kisses that started out as soft and light as the first, but progressively grew in length and passion. After several minutes, they finally broke apart, both panting a little from the lack of air.

"Pepito, what does this mean?"

"What do you want it to mean?"

Todd looked uncertain before shrugging and tilting his head to the side in a playful manner. "Something that's ... not a mating ritual?"

Snorting, Pepito made a pretend sad face. "I was afraid of that." He smirked mischievously before continuing in an enticing voice, "You _are_ aware that I've learned much in that department from incubi and succubi, right?"

Todd rolled his eyes, using one hand to gently push him back a little by his shoulder. "You're such a slut."

Pepito crossed his arms over his chest in mock offense. "Prude."

"Seriously, this ... this has been coming for a while now, hasn't it?"

"Yeah, I suppose it has. I know this is very poor timing ...."

"What? Oh. Heh. Well, at least you told me about the whole Antichrist thing before the kiss."

"Um-hum. Otherwise, I might need a hearing aid now."

"Whatever." He wasn't _that_ loud. Smile fading a little, Todd's face took on a more serious air. "I'm not really sure what I want this to mean. I ... I've never really felt this way about a guy before. I mean, I've never felt this way about _anyone_ before, but whenever I ... umm. The asylum made it kind of hard for me, but the few crushes that I have had have been girls."

Pepito smiled at the shy and embarrassed disposition. He usually despised that kind of innocence unless he was about to obliterate it, but on Todd it was actually sort of ... cute. It wasn't self righteous or sanctimonious like it was with most, and he didn't find himself wanting to annihilate it for the simple pleasure of doing so like he had done with others. He wanted to take it slowly, carefully. He wanted to savor it. "But, you do like me." It was more of a statement than a question.

"I ... yeah. I guess I do." Feeling little blossoms of heat sprouting up all over his face, Todd looked down for a moment. He _liked_ Pepito. Maybe more than liked. God, was that better or worse than liking Gaz? If he was honest with himself, he would have to admit he did have small crush on her, had for a few years, but that feeling paled in comparison with what he was feeling at the moment ... for the Antichrist. Finally, he forced himself to look back up, meeting Pepito's waiting eyes. "What ... do you want it to mean?"

"For me ..." He paused to take one of Todd's hands back into his own. "It means that I care for you. A lot. And, of course, that I find you attractive. But, I think you already knew all that. I've felt this way for some time now, but that wasn't really planned or anything. It doesn't have to include any stipulations ... it doesn't have to change anything unless you want it to."

"Ummm ..." Todd stared down at their clasp hands. They fit so well. But, what would a romantic relationship with Pepito be like? What would it entail? There were things that he just wasn't ready or willing to give ... at least not yet.

"It's okay. You don't have to decide now. In fact, you probably shouldn't."

Todd looked back up, meeting his eyes with relief. "You don't mind if I think about it for a while?"

"Of course not." Pepito gave him a sympathetic look before smiling a little wider and using his hold on Todd's hand to pull him to himself, wrapping him in a hug. "I'm sorry that I come with so much baggage, even as a friend."

Returning the hug, Todd felt a soft, tingling, fuzzy sensation where the bare skin of their faces brushed together lightly. It was an almost static feeling, kind of like the way his foot felt when it fell asleep, except without the discomfort. He was tempted to comment on the strange fuzziness, but didn't really want to break the hug just yet. "It's okay. It's not your fault. Besides, would you still be you without the baggage?"

Pepito's embrace tightened even more, though it wasn't desperate as it had been the previous night. "I don't know."

After a few comfortable moments of silence, Todd managed to squirm his way out of the hug a short distance, taking it upon himself to try and lighten the mood a little. "Heh. Pepito Lite." He was a little surprised to see Pepito looking normal again, with the horns and green skin no longer visible, but chose not to give it voice.

"Approved for the soul on a diet? Oh, I know. How about, 'I can't believe it's not the Apocalypse: less than seventy percent saturated sin.'?"

"Oh yeah. That would make a great marketing slogan."

"You think so? Maybe I'll use it when I go into politics. I wouldn't even need the hidden subliminal messages because all the viewers would already associate me with food."

"Actually ... maybe not." Todd's face scrunched up at the remembrance of what Letta had told him a few nights ago about the group known as Resurrectionists. "That's kind of gross."

"It wasn't meant to be taken literally." Pepito laughed softly at the odd direction that he had apparently decided to take the joke in. Then again, Todd had been exposed to Catholicism a lot during the last few years, something that he hadn't been particularly thrilled about.

"Yeah, but-"

His counter argument was interpreted by three solid scrapes to the bedroom door followed by a "Woof."

"Woofles knocks?"

"When she remembers ... or when she wants something. Mother probably forgot to feed her again." Pepito climbed off the bed. "Come on. We should probably go eat breakfast before it gets cold anyway." When he reached the door, he pulled it open to see just what he expected: his dog sitting in the hall, waiting with restrained impatience. "Did she forget to feed you again?"

"Woof." Woofles nodded before rising to lead the way down stairs.

"You know, if you were home more regularly, that wouldn't happen."

"Woof."

"I know that there has been an influx of rabbits into the suburbs lately, but that's no excuse, especially if you still expect to be fed here. I'm beginning to think that you have a paramour."

Woofles paused in her descent to look over her shoulder, sending her boy a playful warning growl.

"Alright, alright. It was just a joke. I know you have no interest in the local canine population."

Following behind the two, Todd watched as Pepito carried on a causal conversation, a two-way conversation, with his pet dog. That was just so cute ... in a freakishly demonic sort of way. He wondered briefly if it was made possible because being half hellhound made Woofles more intelligent or if Pepito could commune with all animals that way.

When they reached the kitchen, Pepito opened the refrigerator, digging in the bottom drawers for something to feed Woofles. It didn't take him long to pull out a steak wrapped in plastic from the grocery. Making quick work of the wrapping, he held the meat up so that she could see it clearly, though he knew she could smell it already, before leading her to the large dog bowl beside the back door at the opposite end of the kitchen. "Here ya go, girl. Sorry it's cow meat. The city's Christian population is starting to dwindle."

Woofles briefly lifted an ear in his direction before sniffing her offering and immediately digging in.

He gave a wide-eyed Todd a mischievous grin as he washed his hands of the meaty juices. There was an assortment of cold medicine on the counter beside the sink, no doubt left there by his mother for Todd. For some reason, she had always seemed more susceptible to his lies than other relatively intelligent people. After drying his hands on a near by towel, he picked one bottle at random, poring the recommended dosage down the sink. Even though he figured she would probably be more understanding of Todd's situation now, there was no point in making her worry needlessly ... or telling her that he had lied to her.

"Please tell me that was a joke." Watching Pepito at the sink, Todd leaned against the counter, arms wrapped around his torso to hide any possible unease. It had _sounded_ like it was probably a joke, but with considering who it had come from, it was hard to really knew.

Returning the bottle to the counter, Pepito walked past Todd to open the refrigerator again. "Sure, Amigo. That was absolutely a joke." He smiled behind the fridge door. He had to admit that it was kind of fun to bait Todd sometimes, even at the expense of momentarily perpetrating a few stereotypes. He was just so excitable! "Humm. Would you like milk, orange or grape juice?" Of course, there was also the coffee that his parents had left in the machine that morning, but, taking his last thought into consideration, he wasn't quite sure that he wanted to see Todd hopped up on caffeine just yet.

"Oh, orange juice, please." It would have been a lot easier to glare at Pepito if he hadn't been in the process of being so helpful. And if he had actually been upset. The truth was that he was far too elated for that, maybe even if it hadn't been a joke. He couldn't remember feeling that ... bubbly ... inside ever before. It might have been the lack of nightmares or that he wasn't currently pumped full of medications that subdued his emotions. Or it could just be the way Pepito brushed against him when reaching for glasses in the cabinets above his back.

Pepito was pleasantly surprised when Todd actually ate a decent breakfast without prompting, talking amiably between bites. He had to admit that he had been a little jealous of Letta over the years for getting to see Todd relaxed, and sometimes even happy, like that on a fairly regular basis. Of course, after they had finally developed a real friendship, about a year after Todd had been admitted, he'd had many a great conversation with him through letters and later over the phone. But for Todd most of those conversations had been from behind metaphorical bars, which naturally put somewhat of a damper on his mood. And Pepito had been denied the sight of that smile.

After breakfast, they had taken turns showering and then headed for the living room to watch reruns of Saturday's morning cartoon lineup on the big TV. Walking around to the front of the couch, Todd's felt his eyes drawn to the mantel of the fireplace to his left, where several photos were displayed. There was one of a young Pepito standing between both parents. Another was an assembly of light haired, light-skinned, overly perky people. A pre-teen Pepito was the only one who really stuck out, standing in the front row with several other children, directly in front of his mother. Apparently, this was her family. Next, there was a prom picture of Pepito with his arm around Zita, when they had been ushers the year before.

In the very last photo, Pepito was about fourteen, seated on a bench somewhere in what appeared to be Mexico City. This time he stuck out because he was a tad lighter than the small group that surrounded him. This was obviously his father's side of the family and one of the trips that Pepito took to visit them every few years. But, that no longer made any sense to Todd. How did Satan have human family members? Where had Pepito's Mexican genes come from if his father wasn't even human? The human form that he had seen Señor Diablo in recently had blond hair! "Hey, Pepito?"

Looking over from the sofa as he sipped a newly opened can of Poop Soda, Pepito shot him a curious look. "Yes?"

"How exactly are you related to the people in this picture? I mean, your father has existed longer than Mexican culture, so it wouldn't really make sense for him to be Mexican ...." He hoped that wasn't a terribly rude question, but if he didn't ask, it would continue to eat at his brain.

Oh, he should have known that question was going to come eventually. Time for more weirdness! He'd be lucky if Todd still wanted to be his friend by the time all his questions were answered. But, he had told him that he would answer them. Sitting his cola on the coffee table directly in front of him, he patted the seat next to him. Once Todd was seated, he dove into the explanation. "Father doesn't really have any human ethnicity of any kind, but he is very fascinated with Mexican culture. When it was time for him to have a son, he decided that Mexican heritage would be interesting, so he took a Mexican body for the conception."

"What do you mean by 'took' a Mexican body?" That didn't sound good, but then again, what had he been expecting?

"Well, even though he can change his appearance and project himself to humans quite easily, as a spiritual being, he can't produce physical offspring without a physical body, an incarnation. He _can_ produce spiritual children. I actually have a large number of older, spiritual, siblings. But anyway, in order to have me, he possessed the body of a Mexican man named Juan Diablo, a Satanist who willingly offered his body. He lived in that body until I was born and declared healthy, at which point he allowed it to die so that he could better carry on with his regular job. He can, and does sometimes, still manifest in Juan's form for appearances as my father, but it is no longer physically alive and capable of reproduction."

"So, you have three parents?"

"I suppose you _could_ look at it that way." But Pepito certainly didn't. "Satan is my spiritual father. Juan is my genetic father, if you want to put it that way, though the spiritual counterparks in his cells were possessed and overidden by Satan's."

"Ah. Do, uh," He paused to gesture toward the picture of Pepito's Mexican relatives. "they know?"

"A few of them. There have been at least a few Satanists in the family since ... well, since it was a family, I guess. Father has had associations with the Diablos for quite some time, working with them to achieve someone psychically strong enough to be the tool of my creation. Actually, the name really isn't a coincidence." He studied Todd carefully. At least he didn't seem to as upset by what he had just learned as he had been the previous night. "Have any more questions?"

"Not right now." Todd flashed a small smile before pulling his feet up onto the couch, letting them settle directly in front of him so that he could rest his arms on his knees and his head on his arms. He was currently wearing a black pair of Pepito's jeans and a gray shirt with purple strips and holes at the end of their long sleeves for thumbs to fit through, which fit him better than Dib's clothes simply because Pepito liked tighter clothes. Personally, he didn't like tight clothes on himself and even though he ended up wearing a lot of it for work, black really attracted too much lint. But, it did look good on Pepito. Still, he had explained that it was mostly weekend wear for him because he had to keep a more 'respectable' image at skool now.

Returning Todd's smile, Pepito retrieved the remote from the coffee table. "Cartoon time?"

"Cartoon time."

Pepito turned on the TV, which immediately sprung to life with a CNN reporter speaking in a forced professional, urgent tone while footage of a horrible accident engulfed the screen.

"_Folks, this is just devastating! This footage comes to us from the city of the famous Professor Membrane. Apparently, an indoor carnival ride malfunctioned late last night. The ride, known locally as 'The Inferno' began leaking deadly gas, which was trapped inside the building with at least twenty people, who were unable to escape the high speed ride to exit the building. I am being told that the vendor had taken a small break while the ride was in session, letting the passengers have an extra, 'free go' at the ride. Eventually, the ride came to a stop, releasing its victims. Three were confirmed dead on site. Another five were rushed to the hospital in critical condition."_

Grimacing at inadvertently exposing Todd to the footage that must have come from a seemingly useless security camera inside the building that housed the ride, Pepito changed the channel. When he ended up on a local news channel, which was playing the end of the same video, he prepared to change it again.

"Wait, they might know more."

Pepito gave him a confused look, wondering why he, of all people, was suddenly interested in the destruction. Still, against is own better judgment, he set the remote aside.

"_-but we were lucky enough to get an exclusive interview with one of the more fortunate victims of this tragic event." A dark-haired, female reporter turned to face a young woman seated in an uncomfortable looking chair at a slight angle to her own. "Julie Rogers, this must have been the most traumatic experience of your young and listless life!" She went on without giving the other a chance to respond. "Please, share it with the home audience."_

_The red-head brushed a tear from her cheek. "It ... was ... soo horrible. You have no idea! There was this thing! This monster! It had huge teeth and yellow eyes! And, and I was so scared! Everyone was screaming! I know they were seeing it too! Are you listening? Are you!"_

_"Yes, yes. That's nice, dear. Thank you for your time. Back to you, Tom."_

_The scene was quickly replaced with that of a bland, but stern looking man behind an imposing news desk. "Thank you, Dina. I now have Professor Membrane in the studio with me, here to give us the answers that are so desperately needed by the flocking masses. Professor, can you tell us the cause of this catastrophe?"_

_"Well, Tom, most amusement park rides are still, unfortunately, powered by gas or diesel generators, which are capable of leaking deadly carbon monoxide. This gas is colorless, non-irritating, odorless and tasteless, making it difficult to detect without the proper safety equipment installed. The hemoglobin iron sites in the human blood stream have a high affinity for carbon monoxide, which it binds at around two hundred and forty times that of oxygen. This means that even small levels of the gas can replace the oxygen in our veins very quickly, causing suffocation. Carbon monoxide exists naturally within our bodies at very, very small levels, where it is a neurotransmitter. Because of this, increased levels affect the central nervous system and can cause hallucinations and heightened emotional states such as the one obviously experienced by Julie."_

_"Very interesting! Thank you, Professor! Now,-"_

_"Wait just a minute there, Tom. I would just like to take this opportunity to state my scientific opinion that this is exactly the sort of thing that gives rise to 'ghost' sightings and other seemly supernatural phenomena. Because of our continued professional and communal irresponsibility, we are debasing science! That is completely unacceptable. And if you people would learn more respect for science, we would have mini-PEG generators running these rides by now! Think of the lives! Think of the science!"_

Slowly, a slightly trembling hand reached for the abandoned remote, lowering the volume so that Membrane's loud ranting would allow him to think. "That Julie girl, she seemed terrified. And carbon monoxide raises the chances of seeing ghosts. Didn't you say that most people have to be in an altered state of consciousness or about to die to see spirits?"

"Yeah, Amigo, but-"

"It's him. It's Shmee. He needed those people to see him; he needed them to be scared."

Pepito's countenance went from inquisitive to worried as he watched Todd's pupils get bigger and his slight frame begin to tremble.

"I've got to do something." As soon as he went to stand, he felt Pepito's arms around him.

"Todd, you need to calm down. You can't do anything right now. Stressing yourself out isn't going to help anyone."

"He's still out there. I can't just sit here watching TV while he terrorizes the city! There has to be _something_!" When Pepito showed no signs of letting him go, he tried to wiggle his way to freedom, but the grip on him only constricted. "Pepito, let me go! We don't have time for this!"

"You're not thinking clearly." Sighing deeply, Pepito gripped him even tighter with his left arm, letting his right hand slip into his hair, against his scalp. "Relax."

"I can't! I've ... got ... to ... humm ... do what?" As soon as the last word had left Pepito's lips, all the urgency had left Todd body and mind. Suddenly, he felt rather tranquil. His struggle weakened until he was just sitting, more like leaning, there against Pepito.

"See? Isn't that better?" Removing his hand from his head for the moment, Pepito shifted so he could lie sideways on the sofa, pulling Todd to lay with his back against his chest and once again wrapping arms around him.

"Better? What ... what did you do? I feel really ..." How _did_ he feel? Tired? Slack? Passive? He felt as if all he needed was a light blanket and a fluffy pillow and he could go right back to sleep, right there. Eh, to hell with the blanket and pillow. Pepito was pretty warm and soft enough.

"Slothful?" Pepito chuckled softly as he let his hand run serenely through dark brown hair.

"Yeah ... slothful. Stop doing that." His voice came out in a subdued, faraway tone, which lent absolutely no credence to his words.

"Why, so you can panic some more?"

"I can't just ... humm,…" he paused to find a more suitable position, "lay here." Despite his words, he was sounding more than content to do just that.

"Amigo, we're going to stay like this until you either calm down under your own power or you learn to keep me out of your mind. Until then, you might as well get comfortable."

"But, Pepi ... I'm not sure I know how to do either of those." He knew he was whining like a little kid, but he really didn't have the will power to muster anything more assertive at the moment.

Tucking the hair that he had been stroking behind an ear, Pepito moved close to it, so that his lips just barely brushed against the helix. "Then perhaps some motivation is in order?" He felt Todd shiver a little.

"I don't ... what kind of motivation?" He shivered again when Pepito placed a light kiss on the lobe of the ear, feeling himself blush yet again. This was probably too much affection for their current best friend status, but right now he didn't care. Of course, that may have been the whole 'sloth' thing. Then again, it did feel kind of nice, like Pepito's hand lifting his shirt up as it moved across his stomach-wait. That probably didn't need to happen. "Pepito ... sssstop." Ugg! It was a whine again!

"Make me."

"What? I can't." He was just too lethargic. Was it really even worth the effort?

"Come on, Todd. Fight me. You can do it. I know you can." Pressing a kiss to his cheek, Pepito let his hand travel further up his shirt at a sluggish pace. "You know, I do believe I'm starting to develop a tickling fetish." Lifting the hand from the flesh, he let his fingers ghost along Todd's abdomen. He had to do something at least slightly annoying, and he really didn't want to take too much advantage of him in such a state.

"Uhg ... nooo ... I've been feeding it all this time. Heheheh. Quit it." Gah! More tickling! He could very well believe that Pepito had a tickling fetish. At least it was forcing him to breathe faster and wiggle around a little. That was a start, right?

"You're not even trying. This is pathetic. I could pinch, you know." When Todd didn't step up his efforts, Pepito did just that.

"Ouch ... heheh ... you're mean ... heh."

"What kind of lame reaction was that? That might have been even weaker than your reaction to the tickling."

"I have high pain tolerance ... from the tests at the DHMI ...." Usually such a reminder of his ordeals there would have bothered Todd, but as it was, it didn't seem important enough. Not caring seemed a much better approach. Maybe not caring was the best approach for getting through life as well. He could just let the social gravity move him wherever it wanted, exerting no effort to change the prescribed course. He could have a normal life. He could _be_ normal. Normal, complacent and _sedated_. But that didn't seem right.

Pepito could feel his mental grip weaken drastically at that, but forced himself back to the present task. He might have to pay a visit to the Defective Head Meat Institute later, though. "Oh? Well, in that case, maybe I should pinch you somewhere more sensitive."

Eyes widening, Todd finally managed to make one of his arms move to catch Pepito's as it headed further up his shirt. It wasn't so much the promise of pain that motivated him, but the possible sexual implications of the action. It would probably be nothing to Pepito, but that was way too fast for him, and really, they weren't even together like that.

"No?" His hand came to a stop at Todd's grip, weak as it was. The progress was really what mattered. "Okay. How about I summon some ice instead?"

"No." Wow. That one actually came out somewhat authoritative. And he could fill his grip tightening on Pepito's arm. Maybe he really could fight this.

"Good, Amigo. Remember what we did in the basement." There was a hint of pride in Pepito's voice as he let his hand fall flat against Todd's upper stomach, but still maintained the mental control.

Not letting go of Pepito's arm, both out of paranoia that it might start moving again and out of a need for reassurance, Todd closed his eyes and took control of his breathing. Focusing on breathing in a certain pattern seemed to help him attain a natural calm. He had to fight the urge to nap, but other than that, he was more aware of himself and his surroundings. The News was now reporting something about a suicide and several football players being charged with rape.

Pepito's grip on his mind felt like a thick fog around his brain. Imagining his own consciousness to be like a giant wave of air, he willed it to blow the fog away. As he let this thought form free to work, he felt a surge of energy shoot through his entire body and he thought that maybe what Pepito had told him about particles of mass and waves of energy made more sense now. The energy made his whole body quiver, and as the fog was hit by his wave, he felt Pepito do the same. As the feeling dissipated, he realized that Pepito's fog was gone. Smiling widely, he pulled the lingering hand from under his shirt, turning over to face him. "I did it!"

Pepito mirrored his smile. "You did. See? It's not so difficult."

Suddenly, Todd pulled back his arms, crossing them over his chest in an angry posture. "I can't believe you did that to me!"

"Come now, it wasn't so bad." Pepito gave him a sly smirk. "I only plagued you with sloth. The lust was all yours. And, you _do_ need to learn this stuff." When Todd's face turned an even darker shade of red, Pepito leaned forward to place a small kiss on his nose. "You're so adorable when you're embarrassed."

Todd huffed. "I am not. And don't change the subject. That was underhanded and wrong."

"It was tough love, and you know you needed it. Besides, the reason so many people are susceptible to the manipulation of outside forces, magical or mundane, is because they have no connection to their true will. Most of them don't even really know themselves, so they live on autopilot, simply going along with the herd. They're puppets already, so it makes no ethical difference who is controlling them. If someone doesn't have free will to begin with, can it really be violated?"

"Are you saying that I don't have any free will?"

"No. That's exactly the point, you do. I just wanted to make sure that you know how to assert it. Most people never get tested that directly, but your situation is ... special. You did very well, by the way."

Todd sighed in resignation to the point, though he was still a little perturbed. "Do you always have such noble intentions?"

"No. And my intentions weren't _completely_ noble. I was sort of hoping to get to use the ice." Pepito regained the sly smirk until Todd punched him playfully in the shoulder, making them both laugh.

"So, do you have command of all the cardinal sins?"

"Yeah. Pretty neat, huh? But don't worry. I won't use them on you, unless you want me to, but then it wouldn't really be manipulation anymore ..."

Todd was just about to inform Pepito that under no circumstances would he actually _want_ to have such powers used on him when he was distracted by a high pitched screeching sound. Seeking the source of the horrendous sound, he jumped in shocked terror when his eyes found the Scary Neighbor Man leering into the front window. The sound had come from a long blade that he was dragging slowly down the glass, leaving a thin trail of blood in its wake.

"Holy shit!" Before he even realized what was happening, his fear-prompted jump sent him tumbling off the couch, heading straight for the coffee table's sharp corner. He closed his eyes in anticipation of the coming impact, but the seconds seemed to drag on for much to long. Cautiously, he pried them open. He wasn't on the couch any more, but he also wasn't on the floor and he hadn't hit the table. He was just floating there, in the air. "Pepito?"

Pepito smiled at him from the sofa before standing and offering him a hand up.

Immediately taking the hand, Todd allowed Pepito to pull him to his feet. He was a little jittery from the adrenaline that his near fall, and Johnny's sudden appearance, had caused. "Th-thanks."

"Not a problem, Amigo." His smile faltered as he looked back to the window, where Johnny was still watching them. Of course, Elize was there too, and she looked much too happy. Either something else really embarrassing had happened to Johnny or they had just been witness to the little game the two had been playing. He started toward the door, but stopped when he felt Todd tug on the hand that he was apparently refusing to let go of. "What?"

"Can he hurt you?" Quickly, Todd glanced toward the window and back cautiously. Over the years, he had grown used to many of Johnny's odd quirks and learned how to avoid dying by working around them, but a situation such as this had never come up. He wasn't really sure how Johnny would react or how to deal with said reaction.

"Only if I allow him to. No worries, Squee. We're both quite safe. He can't even come in unless I invite him, and if he tries then it's back to Hell again." Squeezing the hand in reassurance, he led the way to the door.

Todd stood just on the inside of the door, to the left of Pepito as the later pushed it open. "Johnny, what are you _doing_?"

Instantly, Johnny went into rant mode. "What are _you_ doing! I am here as the arbitrator of well deserved death for those who engage in filthy, useless, disgusting actions that infest the minds almost every putrid human vermin on this spinning ball of shit! Until now, Squee, I have spared you my wrath because of your innocence from such self-defilement. You used to be such a nice little Squee, but now! Now, I have no choice but to put an end to your meaningless, empty and vomit soliciting life!" Thus saying, Johnny launched himself toward the two boys, knife still in hand, only stopping inches from the door way. Behind him, he heard Damned Elize mutter something that sounded vaguely like, "Oh God, not again."

"Alright, you crazed, psychotic, hypocritical lunatic, take one more step and you will be back in Hell! And I will make sure that your visit isn't all fun and leather jackets this time!" As soon as the maniac had made his move, Pepito had stepped in front of Todd, whose fingers were currently digging into his shoulder. His own right hand hung rigid at his side, and he was sure that both of them could see it glowing with energy, ready to introduce Johnny to the true meaning of pain.

To be honest, he didn't know why his father found this man so amusing. Then again, many of the things that his father found amusing just pissed him off. Like Johnny. One minute he could be self-righteously condemning the materialism and shallow, self-centered disposition of the people of that city, or Hell, and the next he was more concerned about keeping a coat than about his own integrity or self-knowledge that might help him improve his mental condition. Or he was going to kill himself because he couldn't have a brain-freezy. He had almost no self-control, letting compulsion lead him to killing huge masses of people, some of whom were hardly deserving, for insanely minor infractions. That was horrid and pathetic, not funny. Oh well, he supposed that was what his father's semi-friendship with Yahweh was for: laughing at people like Johnny and Job. Maybe there was something about being immortal that made it funny.

Johnny stood there for a few lingering seconds, staring at the angry, red face of Satan's offspring and the pale, large-eyed, distraught face belonging to Squee. Then, just as quickly as he had sprung for the door, he stood up straight and proper, tucking the knife safely away and smiling in good humor. "Heh! No, I only kid. You two should have _seen_ your faces! Heh heh. Seriously though, that was pretty disturbing for me. Don't do it again. Or at least close the drapes." His smile shrunk some when neither of them laughed with him, though they had both relaxed some. It appeared that Pepito was no longer about to blast him with a fire ball from Hell, even if he did still look pretty pissed. Squee wasn't clinging to Pepito's shoulder anymore, but was instead blushing a bright red. "What? You didn't think that was funny?"

"Not especially, no. Now hear this: If you _ever_ threaten Squee or talk to him like that again, I swear by my own father's unholy name that I will-"

"Pepito, please!" Todd pulled him back a little by the arm, stepping back up to stand beside him in the doorway. "It was just a joke." Even though in all probability neither of the two could kill the other for more than a few hours, he really didn't want them to start fighting every time they were in the same room from here on in. "I thought you wanted me _less_ stressed out."

Pepito let out an aggravated huff, but relented to Todd's wish. Maybe he _was_ overreacting about the 'threat', but some of the things that Johnny had said to Todd in that little joke had been highly offensive and completely uncalled for. "Fine. How may I help you, Johnny?" There was a slight lingering edge of hostility left in his voice, even though he tried to curb it. _No one_ talked to his Todd that way. And his parents would probably make him clean the newly bloodied window too!

Eyes narrowing at Pepito, Johnny's posture became more rigid. Socializing definitely wasn't his forte, and, somehow, lately he kept bumping up against people and energy beings that he couldn't kill. It just wasn't fair! How was he supposed to channel all the aggression all the built-up stress! Maybe the little beaver would have some suggestions. No! Oh, dear God, he was starting to loose what little was left of his coherent mind!

Which was why he was here, not to pick a pointless fight with some spoiled, adolescent abomination! He needed to remain as calm as possible if he was to have a chance at getting rid of the newest pest to take residence in his house and mind. Besides, he would be the first to admit that there was a small, but ever present, possibility that someday Squee _would_ need protection from him, like Devi and the others. Hell, there had been a few precious, nearly perfect moments over the years, which had made him feel an almost desperate urge to preserve a rare, nearly familiar connection with him, lest it pass and be forgotten or degraded by some future falling out. Still, Squee's current condition of being alive suggested that maybe over the last decade, Johnny actually _had_ gotten a little better at managing his damage.

But that was hardly a guarantee that he was safe. At least with Pepito, Squee had someone else to look out for him, someone who would actually believe him, unlike the well-meaning, but all too blind Brian and Letta. His parents weren't even a consideration at this point. Still, it was weird that Squee was old enough to want something like what he had seen through the window from anyone, though maybe Pepito was better than the scary, obsessive fan-girl from the mall. Maybe. He _was_ only half human, after all, and being human was not something that Johnny could say he was fond of. Although, he wasn't particularly fond of the Devil either. "Is your father around?"

"No, both of my parents are out at the moment. May I take a message?"

"You tell him that I am _very_ unhappy with my new figment and that I _still_ want a refund on Damned Elize!" Johnny cocked his head to side in contemplation. "Is there really a receipt?"

"O-kay. I'm going to relay that, but I don't think that my father has any control over your psychosis-induced imaginary friends. They probably manifest according to whatever you unconsciously feel you need at the time." Pepito shrugged. "There might be a receipt if Elize was part of your agreement. You should check the clothes you got in Hell."

"But Waffles said that he was 'sent', meaning sent by _someone_!"

"Waffles?" Pepito raised an eyebrow.

"The new figment! He's a cute, little, magical, baby beaver! He says that he wants to help me become a good person!"

"And that's bad?" Todd interjected.

"It's horrible! Just horrible!"

Pepito shook his head. This wasn't his problem. And it was a really stupid problem. "Alright, look, maybe the Administration is trying to work out some of the kinks in the waste management system. My father should be home by nine tonight, but if he's not here and anything bad happens to my mother, you will face the full fury of Hell's torment." This time the threat wasn't scathing at all. It was a simple statement of truth. Surely even Johnny knew not to mess with Satan's wife.

Before another argument had a chance to break out, Todd decided to change the topic. "Uh, Nny, why is there a Hot Dog on a Stick car in the driveway?"

* * *

END CHAPTER!

Notes:

-"Eternity in a grain of sand" is a paraphrase of the first bit of "Auguries of Innocence" by William Blake.

- A lot of what happened to Johnny during the first of this chapter was inspired by this:

5f. WILL THERE EVER BE MORE JTHM?

Probably one day. Straight from the monkey's mouth:

"When I do a JTHM run again, I plan for it to be the worst thing human eyes have ever laid eyes on. My thinking is that human beings always have this innate desire to improve upon the past, to build higher and stronger upon the foundation built on experience. I want to do something different. I wish to rebel against the natural, and embrace the perversion of human striving. I want to draw the book with my feet. I want Johnny to be a happy little guy who works at Hot Dog on a stick, and who drives a new Beetle. In order for people to truly feel something new from the books, they will have to be so horribly sickened by them that they want to throw drinks in my face. This will give them something to talk about that far exceeds the usual noise about how the older books were better than the originals. The new books should make people cry for having spent any money on them. There should also be a magical talking baby beaver in the book who gives Johnny good advice on how to be a good person." 9.8.2000 SLG message board -JV. This comes from alt . Spooky . Html

-1 Cor. 7:14: "For the unbelieving husband is sanctified by the believing wife: and the unbelieving wife is sanctified by the believing husband. Otherwise your children should be unclean: but now they are holy." -Catholic Bible: www. newadvent . org/bible/1co007 . Html (without spaces after periods).

-"Pepito Lite" refers to the ICBINB Advertisement: "I can't believe it's not butter!"

-The "Normal, complacent and i sedated " bit was inspired by the song "Normal Like You" by Everclear.


	12. Chapter 12

**Sublime Awakenings Chapter Twelve: Assumptions**

**

* * *

**Warnings: Mild violence, horror elements

* * *

Lying on her stomach, facing the foot of her dark purple covered bed, Gaz smirked maliciously to herself as she tilted her head to hold the phone to her ear while tearing through mutated vampire piggies on the full TV-version of the Game Slave Five in her room, ignoring the elevator music playing from the phone. Just as she was about to defeat the evil overlord, Pigulon, her door was hastily flung open and her ears were accosted with the sound of Dib's annoying voice.

"Gaz! Get off the phone! I need to make a call."

Losing some concentration, she barely avoided being split in half by Pigulon's giant laser slaughter blade. Quickly, she paused the game before she screwed up and had to start the level over, and kick Dib's ass as well. "You think you own all the phones, but you know what, Dib? You don't. You just don't!"

"But, Gaz-"

"Be quiet. Just use your communicator, stupid. And get out of my room. I'm busy."

"I can't! Zim's computer won't let me through with it for some reason! I have to try something else! I _need_ the phone now!" It wasn't his communicator because he had just gotten off the phone with Squee, so it had to be something going on at Zim's end. Why were his defenses so tight? Hopefully, he wasn't up to anything that would violate their truce.

"Look, you can call your stupid, alien boyfriend after I'm done. Now, seriously, get out or I _will_ destroy you."

"Zim is _not_ really my boyfriend! He is a criminally insane Invader who is going to kidnap Squee's parents if I don't stop him! Do you really want to be responsible for whatever he might do to them, Gaz?"

"Oh! We'd better stop him quick!" Her voice rose with dramatic sarcasm before dropping back to near monotone. "Wait. No. Who even cares? Squee's parents suck harder than a black hole. Maybe Zim will try out that experiment that he was going to do to you. Remember? The one where he wanted to see what you looked like with your organs on the outside? That would be neat."

"Neat? It would be _neat_?" Geez! He didn't particularly like Squee's parents either, but that was really harsh. It wasn't as if they were _Chunk_ or anything! He had to fight a strong urge to yell this to his younger sister, knowing that it would only reinforce her resolution to date the jerk.

"Yes. Neat. Maybe you should run over to his base and take some pictures of it. I don't really care what you do, as long as you get your big head out of my room right now, Dib."

"Fine, Gaz! You know, you have no sense of social responsibility at all! Gah! I'm going over there!" He started out of her bedroom door, but just before closing it, peaked back inside to add another quick sentence. "And my head is _not_ big!"

"Whatever." Gaz rolled her eyes as he ran from her room, finally slamming the door closed on his way out. Social responsibility. Pshh. Loser. She would show him social responsibility. Returning the phone to her ear, she waited a few minutes before the elevator music died out as she was taken off hold.

"Police Department, how may I help you?"

"Hi, you know that suicide at that football after party last night? I think I have some valuable information for you."

-------------------------------SCENE SHIFT--------------------------------

It was dusk when Pepito and Todd pulled up to the curb in front of the later's house. After Johnny had left to find the supposed receipt, Dib had called to inquire about his arm and then he and Todd had decided that the sooner Shmee was caught, the better. Because the skool had decided to cancel Monday's classes for the funerals of Derog and the students who had perished in the 'Cafeteria Accident', tonight would be perfect. They wouldn't even have to worry about putting on a show for Bitters the next day.

Even so, Pepito had been harder to convince. He seemed to think that Todd needed more time to heal mentally, but he had made a very good case that his sanity couldn't withstand much more waiting. The more people that died as he did nothing, the worse he felt, even if he _had_ managed to stop overtly freaking out about it.

"Are you completely sure about this, Amigo?"

"Yeah. It has to be done. Might as well be now."

As Pepito rolled up the windows, Todd quickly slumped down in his seat at the sound of a loud scream from Johnny's house, right beside his own. "Uh, Pepito? Is there really a receipt?"

"Yes, but it will probably do him no good. Contracts with Satan are final and eternally binding, unless otherwise agreed upon beforehand. So, unless Father is in a really good mood or feels that someone else would be even more fun watching Johnny, he is stuck with Elize." He shrugged. "I think he deserves her. And probably that figment that he mentioned as well."

"You don't like him very much, do you?"

"No, not really. He reminds me of most of the damned in Hell. I know that he has protected you in the past, and I respect that. I will try to get along with him for you, but I'm not making any promises."

"Thank you. I know that he can be really ... unstable, but he means well ... with me anyway."

"I'm sure he does, Todd, but ... just be careful with him, okay?"

"I always am." Todd flashed a reassuring smile before hesitantly opening the passenger side door and stepping out. His dad's car was in the drive way, which meant he was probably due for some yelling. He glanced back nervously at Pepito, who was currently throwing a backpack over his shoulder and locking the car. "Hey, could you promise me something?"

"That depends."

"My dad's home, and he's probably about to scream at me and maybe you too. So, do you think that you could ... uh ..."

"Not kill him? Sure. I'm not Johnny, you know. I do have _some_ self control. As long as he doesn't actually touch you, I think he'll live ... though he may not want to." Pepito walked around his car to join him on the curb.

"Pepito ..."

He gave a reluctant sigh. "Very well. I will refrain from maiming him ... this time. "

"Thanks. And don't say anything if it looks like he's wearing a turban." Smiling a little at the odd, confused look Pepito gave him and the mental image of Mark Casil watching old reruns in a turban made up of bandages for his burned head, Todd turned and headed for the house. Yeah, he was definitely about to be yelled at.

As soon as he opened the door, the sound of the TV met his ears. In this house, that sound was a constant when anyone was awake and home because it shielded the residents from the possibility of having to actually talk to each other. So, he wasn't terribly surprised when no one was in the living room watching it when they entered. His mother might have been passed out in the bedroom up stairs. And his father might have been working in his study, which also contained a cot that he had taken to sleeping on whenever his wife actually made it up to the bedroom to sleep, insuring that the two never had to share a bed.

They might have been, but they weren't. The living room carpet was covered with an array of pills, mostly white, but some gray, blue, or pink. There was a dark stain beside the coffee table and broken ceramic of what had probably been a coffee mug. The door to Mark's study was open, and he wasn't inside. A light blue glow from the computer screen illuminated the small room. Blank printer papers, as well as random documents, were strewn all over the floor. The desk lap was broken. Great. Just great. Signs of a struggle. Dib must not have gotten to Zim in time.

"It looks like my parents won't be here after all." Todd simply shrugged in a mixture of resigned defeat and genuine apathy. It probably wouldn't matter. As long as he continued to deny any belief in aliens, his parents couldn't blame the experience on his insanity like last time, provided, of course, that they survived the ordeal.

Pepito watched a little awkwardly as Todd dropped to his knees to clean up the mess on the floor before finally going to the kitchen to seek out a garbage bag. At least they would have the whole house to themselves to lure in the anaphasic life-form, and if anything happened to Todd's parents, it wouldn't be his fault. There were dishes piled up in the sink and even more pill bottles aligned on an elevated rack where spices were meant to be. How depressing. Finally, he spotted a large box of garbage bags under the sink, in a cabinet full of mostly unused, and aged, cleaning products. Just as he was pulling one free, there was a short series of knocks at the door.

Upon hearing the knocking, Todd stood up, fully intent upon quickly disposing of the mess before answering. If he had known the house would be this messy again, he would have come back earlier. Just as he was headed to the kitchen with two fists full of pills, the unlocked door swung open.

"Hi, Squee!" Letta strolled into the living room as if she had been invited over instead of bursting in, in a complete disregard for the privacy of the Casil family. She carried a basket full of supplies that she thought any cold-victim would be glad to receive, but before she could hand them over, she took in her new surroundings. Todd's mother was way too reliant on those pills be so careless as to spill them, and the little study was the only room in the house, besides Todd's, that was ever very clean. From her position, she could only see a few feet inside, where paper littered the carpet. She also caught the momentary look on Todd's face when she had walked in: shock, fear, dread. Shit. "Todd .... where are your parents?"

"Uh, hey, Letta." Noticing her lingering gaze, he quickly moved his hand behind his back. Not that it would help much at this point. "What are you doing here?"

Oh, God, he was avoiding the question. That couldn't be good. She had told her father that placing him back with these people was the worst possible idea! "I, uh, wanted to bring you this." She held up the basket for emphasis. "I called Pepito's house, and his mom said that you guys were staying the night here, so ... yeah." She was completely at a loss for words. Maybe she should just leave. "I, uh, made you chicken noodle soup ...."

When Pepito reentered, he found Letta busying herself digging in an over sized basket, the likes of which is mother sometimes took to church potlucks. Looking to a very nervous Todd, he stepped forward with the bag, so that the other could quickly drop the pills inside.

As she raised her head, having found the soup in question, she released a relieved breath. If Todd had flipped out on his parents, his little friend would be a complete mess by now, right? "Here."

Reluctantly, Todd reached out a, now empty, hand to take the Tupperware container that held a dark brown substance that was supposed to be chicken soup. "Thanks a lot, Letta. I'm sure that this will ... help." He gave the container a foreboding look.

"Aren't you going to make fun of my cooking skills? Ask if I'm trying to help you get well or kill you off?"

"No, too sick."

"That's never stopped you before." Taking a few steps forward and a few more when Todd stepped back, Letta placed a hand on his forehead. "You don't feel hot."

Pepito took the opportunity to make his way to the study and close the door, hiding the mess within. "Si. He's almost better. Otherwise, we would still be at my house."

"Oh, that's good ... I guess." When she turned toward the voice, the sight of Pepito leaning protectively against the door to the unusually messy room did little to ease her suspicions. These two were acting really iffy. "So, I, uh, saw your dad's car in the drive way. Is he ...?"

"He's asleep. Both of them are. They said that I must have made them sick before I left for work Friday night. And that they hate me."

"Why didn't you just say that? If you don't need this stuff, I could take it up to them." Not that she actually cared at all about helping Todd's horrible parents get over a cold.

"No. That's okay. I'll do it."

"They're not up there, are they?"

"Letta ..."

"Oh my God! I knew something horrible was going on Friday night! Is that when you did it? Oh, God, oh God!"

"Letta, calm down! It's not what you think!"

"Then what is it, Todd? Did the 'Scary Neighbor Man' strike again?"

"No. Well, yes, but he didn't do anything to my parents."

"Stop it! Just stop it! Stop with the games already! This isn't funny, Todd! I thought you were better! I know that your parents are terrible, but you can't just do anything you want."

"Letta! I didn't kill them! They're just not here right now."

"Then where are they? Where did they go without their car?"

"They ... ummm ..." He shrugged helplessly. "They were abducted."

"Abducted! By aliens? Like last time? Are you off your meds? Wait." Her green eyes widened even more in realization. "Where is it, Todd? Where is the bear?"

"What?" His mouth actually hung open in surprise for a few seconds. "How do you know about Shmee?"

"That's it, isn't it? I really thought you had gotten over that." She shook her head sadly, making the blond pony-tail behind swing almost childishly from side to side. "You calmed down so much after I took it away."

"You? _You_ took him away? Why?"

"Because when I read your file, most of your issues seemed to be associated with the bear, so, even though I knew it was just an imaginary friend that you invented to help you deal with all the crap your parents put you though, I thought that maybe it wasn't doing you all that much good. And maybe you didn't need it anymore anyway, since you weren't in this environment anymore. But, Dad gave it back to you, didn't he? Damn."

"You read my file?" His eyes grew in shock before narrowing. No wonder she thought he was a psychopath! He knew that the stupid file credited him with the deaths of all those animals that Johnny used to leave in his room. It also listed the 'Scary Neighbor Man' as one of his imaginary friends ... whom he channeled his aggression through. "Damn it, Letta! You had no right to do that."

As some of the unease on Todd's face was replaced by anger, Letta found herself backing up the way she had came. It had been a few good years since she had actually been afraid of the kid before her. Sure, every now and then there were suspicious happenings that made her question his capacities, like finding out that instead of porn, the fourteen-year-old Todd hide a butcher knife under his mattress. They still weren't sure how he had gotten a hold of the thing. But, the last time that she had really been afraid had been directly after reading through his files, more than four years ago.

Todd rolled his eyes at the unprovoked fear as he advanced toward her. When her back hit the door and the lock clicked into place, he felt an unnerving empathy for her situation, which instantly brought back memories of Shmee attacking him with Johnny's body, despite how stupid she was being about this. He shot Pepito a reproachful look for using his powers before turning back to Letta. "Just forget it. It doesn't matter. Look, my parents will be home tomorrow, okay? You can come over and see them, alive and as awful as ever." Shit. Now he really did need for that to be true.

"O-okay." As the word escaped her lips, almost against her own will, she abruptly felt so sedate. Todd was completely right. There was no reason to get all worked up. His parents were just out for the night. They would be back in the morning. Everything was fine. "Tomorrow. Right." She could leave and go back to the dorms and do ... nothing. Screw working on that term paper tonight. Maybe there was something good on TV. Maybe she would come back tomorrow. Maybe. But, she didn't really _need_ to, did she? The lock clicked back out of place behind her. They must have one of those new security systems. "Well, then I guess I'll just be go-ahh!"

Pepito grumbled under his breath when the door flew open, once again, behind her, letting her fall out onto the small porch. Of course, Dib was on the other side of the door with the alien that had caused this predicament and, surprisingly, his younger sister in tow. His influence was broken now, but the residual effect would probably be enough. Todd was probably pissed at him again, but they couldn't have her running off to tell about his missing parents before they had even attempted their plan.

Looking down at the fallen Letta with slight guilt and equal annoyance, Dib muttered a quick apology as both Zim and Gaz laughed out loud behind him. "Uh, sorry about that. I didn't know you were standing there." What kind of idiot stood leaning against a door anyway?

"Whahaha ha! Stoopid, pathetic, fall-ie, worm-derived girl-thing! Yes! The Dib has shown you to your rightful place, groveling at the mighty Zim-boots of Z-Ow!" Zim was cut off mid-rant by the fist of the Dib's terrifying sibling shooting out to punch him in the guts. Holding his midsection, he attempted to stare her down with a mixture of fright and anger, but the first won out. How did the Dib survive living with her? How!

"Be quiet before I make you wish I was never born." Zim had to have the most irritating voice on the planet, aside from Dib. And the ranting, it filled her with a terrible rage! That fall was pretty funny, though, so Gaz continued to snort into her hand.

Shaking her head at the rush of too many contradictory thoughts, Letta took the hand that Dib held out to her, letting him pull her to her feet. Most of the contents of the basket were now strewn on the carpet of the Casil living room, a few on the porch as well. What the hell had just happened to her? "That's alright, Dib. I may have needed it. What are you guys doing here?" As she looked from Dib to his companions, her eyes stuck the green kid. This was that Zim guy that Dib was so obsessed with, the 'alien'? "You must be Zim." Smiling, she extended her hand in greeting. "I've heard _a lot_ about you."

Zim did not take the hand. He simply looked at it with suspicion and mild distaste. Yes, yes, he knew all about the standard human greeting by now, but was still reluctant to engage in such a filthy, dirty, germ-sharing practice unless it was deemed necessary for his mission. "Who are you and why should I care?"

Wow. This guy was really freaking rude! "I'm Letta, Squee and Dib's psychologist's daughter."

"You are the offspring of the emotional manipulation drone who toys with the head meats of the Dib-thing? Interesting. Very interesting. Perhaps you are fit to be a friend of the mighty Zim after all." She could perhaps come in handy for one of his future plans ... if he, in fact, still needed them. Oh well, maybe he could use her to learn valuable information about the Dib for later use in getting him to adjust to his life as Zim's pet.

"Don't get any funny ideas, Space-boy! We're still in the midst of a truce, ya know! Besides, she doesn't know anything that you could use in one of your evil plots to destroy me anyway. My sessions with her dad are strictly confidential."

"Don't count on it," Todd muttered lowly, almost to himself, as he stood in the doorway, relieved that Letta seemed to have calmed down a great deal, but still upset about her invasion of his privacy.

Dib gave Squee a questioning look, but said nothing. They could discuss whatever that meant later, when Zim was out of ear shot. Shrugging it off, he turned back to Letta, answering her previous question. "We're here to investigate a paranormal phenomenon!" Dib was quite pleased with the situation and it was reflected in his voice. He had never had this much help on any of his investigations. Even Gaz seemed interested! Unless she was secretly just there to sabotage his endeavors again. Had he done anything to incur her wrath lately?

"All of you?"

"Yeah. It's gonna be great!" Uhg. He almost sounded like Keef there for a minute. Okay, Dib, calm down. Be cool. "I mean, with a complete team, it should be a very thoroughly documented case, even if not all of us are professionals in the field."

Letta looked back and forth between the five teens assembled around the entrance to the house in disbelief. So, _all_ of Todd's friends were into that supernatural crap? No wonder he was becoming delusional again! "O-kay. I think that maybe I should stay for this. You know, just to see it for myself. And, Squee, you might want to mention this to Dad at your next appointment."

Todd's hands clenched and his eyes narrowed some again. He knew that her little advisory was really more of a threat. If he didn't tell Brian, then Letta would. Spectacular. And, she wanted to stay too.

Everyone was looking at him for the final decision. A part of him was sure that this was a really terrible idea. He really had no way to ensure her safety, and despite the others not necessarily being professionals, they all at least had some experience with the paranormal, not to mention long track records of surviving strange and unusual situations. On the other hand, if Letta _did_ stay and witness something paranormal, then maybe she wouldn't tell Brian after all. And maybe she wouldn't believe all the lies in his file anymore. "Fine. But, if you stay, you have to stay out of our way. And if you're told to do something for your own safety, like leave, you have to do it, no questions asked."

Rolling her eyes at the sobriety in his voice, Letta shrugged. "Alright." Like anything was really going to happen! She could hardly believe that they were all taking this so seriously.

"Great, another witness." Dib clasped his hands together in front of himself happily. "Well, why don't we go ahead and get set up. This could be a long night, so somebody might want to make some popcorn or something. Gaz?" No answer. He looked behind him. "Gaz, what are you looking at?" Still no answer.

"Pig-girl! The Dib is speaking words at you form the noise tube in his gargantuan head!" If the great Zim had to listen to the constant babble of the monkey-boy, then so did everyone else! Even so, the great Zim almost regretted enforcing this justice when the Gaz-beast's fist shot out at him yet again. This time, he saw it coming, jumping behind the Dib and escaping the impact to his superior Irken organs by the bristles on his lekku.

Since standing between Gaz and the target of her anger was never a healthy place to be, Dib attempted to step aside, only to have Zim copy his moves every time. It was almost like a really stupid dance. "Zim, get away from me!"

"Not a chance, Dib-thing! As my love-pig, it is your duty to protect me from other pig-smellies, yes?"

Letta perked up a bit at the mention of something that she could possibly find interest in: slashiness. "You two are finally together?"

"No! Not really." How many times was he going to have to explain this to people? And Zim never made it any easier! Dib turned to him next. "We're just _pretending_, Zim! And that whole protection thing is only at skool."

Gaz growled in her throat when she missed the little green nuisance. _No one_ brought up the 'Pig-girl' incident! Well, Dib did sometimes, but he was her brother, and he always paid for it. "Shut your trap, you short, little green freak, before I plunge you into a world of hurt, the likes of which even Dib has never known."

Zim poked his head out form behind his human shield to scream his retort, gaining the attention of an old woman, who peeked at them through the curtains of the house to the left of the Casil's. "Zim is not short! I ... just don't have to bend down as far. Because I am _amazing_." He nodded in agreement with his own brilliant defense, making his black wig sway forward and then back into place.

"Whatever." Gaz's voice was indifferent, but there was a small smile on her face. She had carefully surveyed all of the surrounding houses, and was now certain that Johnny's house was the one to the right of Squee's, not that there had ever been much doubt. It was the most dilapidated house on the block, and it didn't even have a proper lawn. That was easy, which was good because she was almost finished pulling the strings on her human meat puppet, and soon she would make him walk off into a steep precipice with a meat grinder at the bottom.

"'Whatever'? You concede? Victory for Zim! Zim is amazing and Zim shall rule you al-Hey!" Zim rubbed his aching arm, where he had been punched by the Gaz-beast as soon as he had stepped from behind the Dib, as she entered the house, announcing that she was ordering pizza. That fragging steel skull ring hurt! "Soo much like GIR ... except scary .... and smart." A shiver ran down his spine as he remembered what his SIR unit was like when functional. He was lucky that Gaz had never earnestly joined the Dib in trying to catch him.

"Squee! Show me where the phone is!"

Todd left the others on the porch to help Gaz order pizza, but as he was heading into the kitchen from the living room to show her the phone, she grabbed his arm.

"Hold on a sec." Gaz had frozen in the living room, behind the sofa, when the local news had announced a special report on the recent suicide of a transsexual high skooler.

Brow creasing in confusion, Todd watched as the bland, but stern man from earlier that day appeared on the screen.

"_Yes, Dina, we are being told that the police now have several suspects in custody for the rape of a local transsexual teenager, which apparently lead to ... ummm-her?-suicide at a high skool party over the weekend. We are not allowed to reveal the names of the suspects yet, as most of them are minors, but we do know that at least five have tested as positive matches to physical evidence found at the scene of the crime._

_We have also received a tip from someone going by the alias 'Chunky Chips Ahoy' that several of these suspects are members of a local football team. This person claims to be a member of the team himself, and that he was present during the crime, though he did not participate himself."_

_"Tom, have the police confirmed this as a hate crime?"_

_"Not yet, Dina, but it is a reasonable assumption in a case like this one." _

"Gaz! That's gotta be Chunk! Weren't you at that party?"

Failing miserably at trying for a shocked look, Gaz had to bite back a huge smile. Her email to the news station had worked as perfectly as her call to the police. Now Chunk would be a suspect, and all of his remaining friends would think that he turned them in. Perfect. Not complete, but so far, perfect. "Yeah. I guess Dib was right about him all along, huh? Maybe I should break up with him."

"Maybe? There is no maybe. You have to. Do you even realize how incredibly _sick_ that is?" He might have called it 'evil', but Pepito would probably have taken offense.

"Don't tell me what to do, Todd. If I don't let my brother get away with it, what the hell makes you think that I'm going to tolerate it from you?" Her voice had taken on its usual dangerous undertone.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. It wasn't really telling you what to do. It was more like advice. Very strong advice. Very strong advice that you really should take because-"

"You're doing it again!" Gaz's fist shot out yet again.

"Ouch! Sorry!" Todd moved a few good yards away from her, nursing his sore arm. Gaz _would_ aim for the weak point.

She shrugged nonchalantly. "I warned you."

"I know." He let out a soft sigh of defeat. "Come on, let's call Bloaty's."

An hour and a half later found Todd sitting on the couch between Gaz and Letta, who were still watching Punch Club, one of Gaz's favorite movies, which she had brought along to relieve her boredom, and eating the remainder of the pizza they had ordered. Zim had long since made a mad dash for Squee's bedroom, claiming that he had to escape from the 'rancid smell of that cheese' and the 'lippy-smacky noises' of the others before he was forced to 'hurl his superior Zim-guts onto the disgusting, inferior hyumun floor'. After finishing his dinner, Dib had followed to help him set up the instruments they would be using to catch Shmee in the room. Pepito had been outside on the small porch for a good ten minutes now.

Standing up, Todd walked extra fast in front of Gaz to avoid being kicked for being in her line of sight. Once past her, he slowed down a bit as he made his way out the front door.

Pepito tensed slightly when he heard the door open behind him, pulling the cigarette from his lips mid-drag to turn around and look up from his sitting position on the stairs. "Hey, Amigo." His voice came out a little forced as he tried, and failed, to hold in the smoke in his lungs with the greeting.

Raising a brow at Pepito's sad attempt to hide his smoking and giving him am unimpressed look, Todd took a seat beside him on the steps, which were covered in an old, peeling coat of gray paint. "Hey. I thought you quit."

"I did. I guess I've just ... been under a lot of stress lately. Don't tell my parents?"

"Oh. Sorry. Of course I won't tell them." Dark bangs fell into his eyes as he studied the ground awkwardly for a small moment. Sometimes the things that Pepito got in trouble for and the things that he didn't seriously confused Todd, especially with his father. Not that he approved of smoking either. The distaste was probably something that he had picked up from Johnny, though he usually felt less ... murderous about it ... usually. "But, just for possible future reference, I'm not going to kiss you if you taste like an ashtray. Even if it is my fault." He paused to give him a small smile. "I'm a hypocrite like that."

Taking one last drag from the short stick, Pepito put it out on the concert step beside him before flicking it into a nearby trash can. "It isn't your fault, Todd. Bad things just happen to you. But, soon that will all be over." He exhaled the last of the smoke before turning back to him. "Are you afraid?"

"Of tonight? I don't know. A little. I'm mostly just really nervous. I'm trying to stay positive, but if something goes wrong ... it could be really bad."

"From what Zim has told us, I don't think that Shmee would actually try to harm you in earnest, but just in case, could you do something for me?"

Todd could feel his heart rate speed up as a wave of hot agitation washed over him. If this was going to be what he thought, he was _not_ ready to answer that question. "I ... I don't know, Pepito."

"No, not _that_, Amigo. I won't actually _need_ an answer to _that_ question for a long time, maybe a few decades even. I just want you to hang onto something for me."

"Oh. I guess I could do that." Todd let out a visible sigh of relief, but his pulse didn't get much chance to slow back down because then Pepito's hand removed a gold chain from the pocket of his jacket. From the end of the chain, a key dangled. "Is that-?"

"Yes." Pepito's other hand untucked a similar chain from under his black shirt, letting a matching lock fall to his upper chest. "This key is very important to the plans of the Administration, and, to protect itself from falling into the wrong hands or being lost, it will protect whoever is wearing it, whomever I give it to. Once I give it to you, it can not be removed by anyone but yourself. It won't fall off on its own or anything and, as far as I know, it cannot be destroyed."

Taking in Todd's worried, uncertain countenance, Pepito's tone became more urgent and he sent Todd an almost pleading look. "Please, Todd. This isn't about what we talked about last night, I promise. I just don't want anything to happen to you."

"So, it ... won't affect my soul?" Todd spoke in a near whisper to make sure that no one else would overhear them.

"Not much. Not in that way. It will keep you alive, but it won't necessarily protect your sanity from outside forces or yourself. The protection is very basic." Pepito lowered his voice even more before speaking in a reassuring tone. "Todd, you can't sell your soul without knowing. And I said I wouldn't trick you, remember? If, and when, the time comes you won't have to wonder, you won't have any doubts, okay?"

Very slowly, Todd nodded affirmatively. God, he hated trusting people. It was just so ... scary, and people were so ... untrustworthy. He had no idea how normal people did this type of thing, well not exactly _this_ type of thing, but trusty things, so casually, every day of their lives, with hardly a thought.

At the nod, Pepito scooted closer, slowly lifting the necklace to carefully drape it over Todd's shaggy head of hair and around his neck. He almost laughed when his eyes widened in shock as the chain resized itself, so that it was now too small to fit around his head again.

"Squeee! That was so weird!" For a minute it had felt almost like the chain was really a smooth, but scaled snake, hanging from his neck and possibly swallowing its own tail to lose circumference. Apparently the chain wasn't really made of gold after all, though Todd had no idea what it actually _was_ made of, and he wasn't feeling inclined to ask.

"Heh. Yeah, I suppose it would be." Pepito didn't really know. He had had his lock, which shared the same basic functions of the key, including the shrinking feature on the rare occasions that it needed to be momentarily removed, since he could remember, so the 'weirdness' was perfectly normal to him. "I should have warned you about that. I apologize." His lips formed a half smirk.

"You're not sorry." Todd shook his head at the obvious lie, but smiled all the same. "Thanks, Pepito."

"No problema, Squee." Pepito put his arm around his shoulder, pulling him into a tight hug.

Wrapping his arms around Pepito as well, Todd returned the hug tentatively at first and then more enthusiastically. Having someone really care about him this much was very novel, and still shocked him every time that it came to the surface, but he decided that he liked it.

After a few minutes, they finally pulled apart, with Pepito placing a light kiss on Todd's forehead. "Everything is going to be okay."

A light blush tinted Todd's cheeks, and he was tempted to admonish Pepito for kissing him, but it wasn't as though it had been on the mouth. Still, he had mixed feelings about the forehead kisses. In a way they felt almost religious, though he knew that Pepito was probably just trying not to overwhelm him with physical affection. He finally decided to push those thoughts aside and simply address the words. "Everything?" He gave him an incredulous look. "How about we just stick to this individual situation?"

Pepito snorted. "You're so pessimistic, Amigo."

Resting his head in his hand to give Pepito a sideways glance, Todd smiled. "Pessimism is just an ugly word for pattern recognition, at least in my life."

Frowning slightly, Pepito opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the door opening once again.

Stepping out onto the porch, Dib closed the door behind him and crouched down behind the other two. "Hey, we're getting ready to begin now, so we should probably head up to your room, Squee."

He stood back up, but waited for them to follow his lead with his hand on the door knob. Once they stood, he addressed Squee again, more seriously this time. "I'm really sorry about Zim taking your parents, Squee. I did try to stop him, but I couldn't get in contact until it was too late. He says that he hasn't experimented on them or anything. We should be able to collect them from his base after we catch Shmee."

He looked down for a moment in guilt and embarrassment for another victory that he had allowed his nemesis over the Earth. "They're probably alright. I've been Zim's prisoner many times, and I've come out alright." Even as he said this, he mentally cringed, imagining Squee's parents in Zim's kitchen, with happiness probes protruding from their heads and a demented robot feeding them waffles with soap. Actually, maybe it _was_ kind of funny.

Taking a deep breath, Todd nodded his head. "Yeah. I'm sure you're right." It was funny how it sounded like he actually cared about his parents when what he really cared about was his inability to explain their disappearance if they didn't come back. That sounded so cold, but it was the truth of the matter, and lying to himself wouldn't change it. That was one good thing that the DHMI had taught him: to avoid creating delusions or fantasies just to bury a little painful self-knowledge. What they hadn't taught him was the ability to tell the difference between those delusions and reality. "Come on. Let's worry about that after we have Shmee."

A little more than an hour later, Pepito yawned as he looked, once again, at the tarot cards in his hand. Nope, still no Cups. Big surprise there. "Go fish, Zim. You might want to consider asking someone else for that rank next time, since I haven't had any for four rounds now."

"You lie! Zim knows that you have them _all_, filthy, corn-filled fool! Show your cards to Zim!"

Pepito gave him a flat look. "Corn filled? I haven't even been eating corn. And what's wrong with corn anyway?" The six of them had been sitting in Todd's room, in a protective, magic circle that Dib, the stupid, white-lighter, had drawn with chalk, which was getting all over his black and green striped pants, and playing kiddie games with the paranormalist's tarot deck for the better part of an hour now. He was starting to wonder if Zim had known what he was talking about when he had claimed that Shmee would seek Todd out at the first opportunity. His current child-like demanding wasn't lending him much creditability.

"Show Zim now, lowly huy-mun!" Zim pointed his middle claw at the insolent worm-baby dramatically.

"Human?" Letta looked up from her hand, even more disturbed than when she had discovered this occult-center sleep over. Did the little, green boy go around pretending to be an alien? Did he think that he actually _was_ an alien? Were all of these kids crazy? Maybe there was something to the theory of mass hallucinations after all.

"Eh?"

"Why did you call Pepito human?"

"Because he, like me, Zim, is human, silly worm-child! Heh heh."

"Yeah, but you said it like an insult."

"Yes. I am not very fond of humans ... or being one. But hey, what are ya gonna do?"

"O-kay." She shrugged. He sounded like Johnny: an extreme misanthrope. At least he didn't think he was a real alien, though.

Zim smiled triumphantly at the Dib, gaining a small glare in return, before looking back expectantly to Pepito.

Pepito sighed irritably, turning his cards toward Zim. "There. Happy now? No cups."

"No cups? How can this _be_! Very well. You have won this round, but rest assured that I, Zim, will be victorious by the end!"

"Zim, just take a card." Picking one off the top of the shallow pile in the middle of the circle, Dib thrust it into his lap.

"Silence, Dib-beast! Zim will do as he-Owww ..." Zim stared at his new card with pride before presenting it to the rest of the circle. "Two of Cups! Hah! That makes four cups! Zim is one step closer to defeating you all!" Gathering the feeble human 'divining' devices together, Zim plopped them down before himself.

Gaz grunted at Zim's stupidity, wishing desperately that her beloved Game Slave wasn't at home. Oh well. "Pepito, give me all your Pentacles. I know you have some."

"Gerr. That's not fair." When Gaz simply narrowed her eyes at him, he reluctantly tossed her three cards. "Thanks, Zim."

"You are quite welcome, stink-beast," Zim said obliviously.

Showing the group her latest match, Gaz added yet another foursome to her pile. "I win. Again." She cracked her knuckles as everyone else bemoaningly threw their cards into the middle. She could tell that Zim was aching to accuse her of lies or cheating, but she simply stared him down, and he said nothing.

Carelessly tossing his cards into the pile, Todd looked up from the creepy painting he had done of Shmee. He had been hoping that it might give him some sort of focus to call the bear, but so far, so bad. Shifting his weight around to get more comfortable, he nudged Pepito with his foot. "Your turn to deal, Pepi." He smiled when he grunted in displeasure before gathering the cards together.

"How about we play something more challenging?" Pepito's voice rose over the sound of the deck being expertly shuffled. Though his father was rarely home for long, he had taught him to play cards when he was about eleven, despite his mother's disapproval of gambling.

"Like what?" As he spoke, Todd absentmindedly traced the lines of the bear on the painting with his finger.

"Assumption."

"What's that?" Gaz raised a purple brow. She knew almost every game there was to know, even card games, as lame as they were, but she had never heard of this one. By the looks of the surrounding faces, none of the others had either.

"It starts out a lot like poker, but there is a sort of ... _twist_ near the end." He smiled mischievously, but the only person who might have caught on was still looking at that painting. "Come on, I shall teach you. Amigo, pay attention if you intend to play. This game is best with thirteen people, but we'll just have to make due."

Sitting up straighter, Todd set the painting aside and stretched before committing himself to the game.

As he began passing out the freshly shuffled cards, Pepito continued to explain, "Like most games played with tarot cards, Assumption uses only the minor arcana. In the first round, each player gets three cards with the last card dealt face up. Normally, we would all have anted up before the dealing, but since we've not come prepared, we'll skip that bit. We _are_ still going to need to bet, though, or the game will lose purpose."

"All I've got is plastic." Gaz shoot Dib some mental daggers for having weird obsessions that had lead their dad to regulating their spending.

Pepito shrugged. "This isn't really a proper game anyway, so I'm relaxing most of the rules. Anything you have with you will do, and we won't worry about exact value."

"Uh," Todd spoke up, "I have a jar of change that we could split up if that would help." He gestured to his desk where said jar sat beside the older laptop that Letta had passed down to him when Brian had gotten her a new one for kollege.

"Gracias, Todd. That would be very helpful indeed."

Carefully, as to not smudge the circle anymore, Todd got to his feet to retrieve the jar, but just as he was about to step across the line something grabbed his pants leg, holding him in place.

"No! Don't leave the circle! You'll disrupt the energies of this world and the next! Plus, it took me thirty minutes to cast it." Dib had dived across the circle and caught him just in time. Didn't Squee know anything about magic? That was just sad. And to think that they had been friends for a good four years now.

"Dib-thing, that trail of accumulated shedding of the filthy microorganisms that live in the Earth's acid riddled oceans is not going to protect us from the Shmee-monster. Contrary to what your stupid 'internets' say, it couldn't even provide a decent barrier for ants!" Zim's voice grew slightly angry toward the end as he remembered the ants that had stormed his base two Earth weeks ago when GIR'd had some ridiculous accident with one of his pig friends, after which the defective SIR couldn't wake it up, but still carried on playing with it until some of the planet's natural scavengers had finally come to take it away. Dis-cust-ing! The Invader was actually surprised that his minion hadn't decided to eat it before then. At this thought, he gagged a little, but luckily he hadn't eaten any snacks in a while.

"Zim, why don't you leave the paranormal investigating to the professionals? The chalk is only symbolic of the real, spiritual circle." At the sound of laughter from everyone else in the room, Dib sighed heavily before coming to a compromise. "Alright, Squee, but at least let me cut you a door first."

"Umm ... okay."

Dib swiftly pulled a pocket knife with a laser beam on the end from his trench, using it to cut a door in the circle he had so meticulously constructed, all the while ignoring their continued laughter. "Alight, it's done."

"Can I go now?" Todd stared at the spot where Dib had traced the air, hoping that he could remember where the door was supposed to be on his way back in.

"What color is it?"

"What?"

"The door. What color is the door?"

"Red?"

"No. That's the color of the laser beam."

"Oh. Ummm ... blue?" Was he seriously supposed to know that?

"Close enough." Dib finally stepped aside, letting Todd take a couple steps out of the circle to grab the coin jar before heading straight back.

Returning to his seat between Pepito and Gaz, Todd began counting and passing out hand-fulls of coins while Dib sealed the doorway that he had cut just behind him.

Once everyone had an equal amount of coins and Dib had returned to his spot, Pepito resumed the game. "Now, based on our own respective cards in comparison with the visible card of everyone else, we decide whether we want to stay or fold and how much we want to bid. Minimum bidding for this round is two quarters."

There was a collective clink of twelve coins hitting the floor. It was to be expected as so far no one had anything to lose if they lost. He placed one more card on everyone's hands, again face up. "This time, the minimum bid is a dollar."

Again, no one folded. Excellent. "Alright, this is where the game deviates from regular poker. It is time for 'the mating'." He chuckled at their dispositions before carrying on. "In this round, we will be bidding on the hands of other players. The object of this game is to make as much profit as possible, so if you think that you have a chance at winning, you'll want to buy, but if you are unsure, you might want to sell while you can. Also, the winner of the final round must give those whose hand they purchased ten percent of the pot." He indicated the nine dollars in the middle.

"Since we all have the same amount of change, the buyers should probably make their own personal offers to sellers or the game will go nowhere." Bah. This game was a lot easier when everyone came prepared with their own cash.

A large, zippered smile broke out on Zim's face as he reached back into his pak to retrieve a large stack of hyuman monies. Oh yes, Zim would be the champion! He would beat the Dib and his fellow pig-smellies yet again! Eventually, he would come to see how truly deserving Zim was. Yep. Printing his own monies was definitely one of his best decisions on this mission. Heh heh. This stuff was practically dyed leaf and those Earthinoids were looking at it as if it was some rare and useful element. They would be so easy to rule as slaves. He looked carefully at the cards belonging to the humans, knowing that he would have his pick of which ones to buy. "Say, Pepito, your cards are very high, aren't they?"

"Why yes. Yes, they are."

"The Almighty Zim wishes to buy them! In exchange I will give you ... one hundred monies and ... eh. ... I'll replace your weak, meaty human legs with legs of pure gold! How about _that_? Impressive, no?"

"No! His money is fake! He prints it in his basement!" Dib couldn't let Zim use the counterfeit money! It was way more that he had. There was no way he could defeat Zim against that much money!

"Quiet, Dib-beast! I spend it all the time, and your authorities know nothing. Noth-ing!"

Pepito cringed at the shrill rise in Zim's voice, but recovered quickly. "Well, spendable currency is spendable currency ... unless anyone has anything better to offer. No takers? Alright, deal. Except for the golden legs part ...." With a large grin, he exchanged his hand for the money.

Her hazel eyes widened as Gaz stared at the cash in space-freak's gloved hand. One hundred bucks could easily buy one of the games that she had been eying at the mall. "Hey, Zim. I've got some good cards."

"Zim will be the judge of that!" Leaning over the Dib, almost in his lap, Zim studied the two cards on top of the small pile of cards in front of the Gaz-beast. "Hummm. These aren't bad." They weren't as good as the Pepito-worm's, but still pretty good. Maybe if he bought them, she wouldn't hit him again that night? "Alright, Dib-sister, same deal."

"Great." Without another word, she handed her cards over.

"Gaz, how could you sell out to the aliieen! As your brother, I am personally mortified!"

"Can you beat his offer, Dib?"

"No ...." Dib's zig-zagged scythe-lock fell into his face as he hung his head in exaggerated, momentary defeat before he flipped it back into place, where it lurched up cow-lick like, then plummeted down to the bottom of his neck.

"I didn't think so." She took on a faraway expression as her imagination gave her an early preview of the game she would buy tomorrow.

"It is of no use, feeble Dib-thing! Zim has enough monies to buy the cards of all these meat bags! And when I do, you will taste the bitter sting of defeat once again!"

"Not likely, Zim!" Actually, it was looking pretty likely, but with Zim it was important to never admit defeat. "Quick, Letta, sell me your hand! Squee, you too! _Someone_ has to go up against the evil, invading swarm!"

Gaz rolled her eyes. "How does Zim constitute a _swarm_?" Dib was always making Zim's little endeavors out to be grander than they were.

"Because if he succeeds, then his kind will descend upon us in mass! He's like the first ant at a picnic!"

"Could you not mention ants around Zim for a while?" Zim tried to glare at him for calling him an alien again, even though he had said that he wouldn't, but his spooch was making him queasy again. Plus, he was kind of breaking the truce himself ... but that was completely different!

Letta gave Dib a doubtful glance. "How much are you offering?"

Digging his wallet out of his coat, Dib counted the bills inside: two hundred dollars. All of his actual money was from working at Rob's, and it was all he had as far as buying more equipment for investigating and fighting Zim. If he spent it now on something as harmless as a card game, he might pay for it later when defeating the Invader was more important. "Uh, fifty dollars."

She looked to the green teenager with abnormally big, purplish eyes and no nose. That was one hell of a skin condition. Poor kid. "Zim?"

"Same deal."

"Sorry, Dib. Kollege is expensive, ya know?"

"Nooo! What about you, Squee?"

"I don't know, Dib. I think I should just fold." Todd looked suspiciously to his right, at Pepito. The Antichrist was really enjoying this game far too much for someone who wasn't even winning, and it was making him paranoid. It even seemed like he might be losing on purpose. But then, losing nine dollars was definitely worth gaining one hundred, so maybe that was all it was.

Pepito shook his head happily. "Sorry, Amigo. You missed your chance to fold last round. Now you have to either sell your hand or buy someone else's to play the final round. So, go ahead and mate with Dib if you want. If you two don't mate your hands, neither of you will have enough cards, and Zim will automatically be the winner."

"Do you have to call it 'mating'?" Todd sighed. He might as well make Dib happy. Zim's counterfeit money would probably just get him in trouble anyway, even if everyone else could get away with spending it. "Fine. Here, Dib." At least the fifty dollars would make up for some of the work he was missing.

"Okay," Pepito continued. "Time for the final round. Dib and Zim, pick your five best cards, then lay down your hands."

After Zim had finally chosen his cards, Dib watched as he laid them out side by side, seeming to glow with pride at his assured win. Damn it! Stupid alien! Stupid fake money! He practically threw down his losing cards, even though it was his own deck that he was roughing up in the process. Maybe be should turn Zim in to the Secret Service for counterfeiting!

"Zim wins! Victory for Zim!" Pulling his nine dollar prize, which he had paid three hundred monies for, to himself, Zim reveled in the annoyed look on the Dib's flustered face. He was such a sore loser! Almost as bad as Zim. Hey, wait! Zim never lost! What was he thinking?

"Assumption." Pepito's grin was even wider than before as he threw a ten dollar bill into the middle.

Zim looked up from the coins. "Eh? Yes, yes, we all remember the name of the game, dirt-child." By Irk, humans were stupid creatures!

"No. I challenge you to assumption. After a winner emerges from the game, a parent of the winning hand, someone who sold their cards to you, can challenge you to a final draw. I have to place a bid that at least matches the amount in the pot, then we both draw from the remaining, unused cards. Whoever gets the highest ranked card wins the pot, and as a consolation prize the loser gets the hand itself," His smile grew even more. "... along with the souls of all the players who contributed to the hand."

For almost a full minute, there was silence as the other five stared at Pepito in shock as he took the top card off of the remaining pile and held the rest out for Zim to take one. "What? It's your go, Zim ... if you're up to it."

Letta laughed a little at what she assumed was a joke, but still scooted a few places away from Pepito. It wasn't as if she was truly afraid for her soul, or even believed in souls really, but she was reminded of something else in Todd's file: his claim that this boy was the Antichrist. Though she believed in the Antichrist even less that she believed in souls, there was still the possibility that Pepito was responsible for Todd having believed that. And if he was some fucked up, delusional Satanist, then maybe he _wouldn't_ have been freaked out if Todd happened to go berserk on his parents.

"Zim is not afraid of your silly, primitive superstitions, human-worm!" Zim only had a vague notion of what a human 'soul' was supposed to be. It seemed to be some mysterious, invisible _thing_ that was a human's consciousness ... like an invisible, untouchable pak. But, Zim had never found any solid evidence of its existence. Not that he had looked. That was Dib's job, and he insisted that it was real. But, then he also insisted that 'Big Feet' periodically dropped by to use his belt sander. So, ignoring the shaking head of the Squeaky-kid and the uncertain look on Dib's face, Zim reached for a card.

His left eye twitched involuntarily every couple seconds as Todd watched the last move of the game. A part of him wanted very badly to bitch slap Pepito for being both a jerk and an idiot. What the hell, literally in his case, did he think he was doing? Apparently, he wasn't lying about being manipulative. If what he had been told earlier on the porch was true, then the only soul that was really up for grabs was Zim's, as no one else had known about the real object of the game until now. If it wasn't true, then Pepito wouldn't have revealed that the hand was symbolic of the souls of those who once held them because he wouldn't have needed Zim to know the risk. Still, even if Zim _was_ an invading, alien annoyance to the Earth, he couldn't just sit there and let this happen!

Just as two gloved fingers settled on a card and began to pull, Todd dove into the center of the circle, quickly grasping the deck of cards, including the one being chosen, from Pepito's hand in the confusion. Next, he got to his feet and scurried across the room, breaking the circle, to throw all the cards out of his open window. He watched with relief as they all fluttered about in the wind, some sticking to the roof as others fell to the ground or were caught in tree branches. When he turned back around, the expressions he met were much more extreme than those Pepito had meet moments before.

"Squealy, cheating, human fool! Zim was about to win doubles, proving once and for all that he is superior and resplendent beyond all the comprehension of your poor, little monkey-brain!" He shook his mighty Zim-fist at the pathetic worm. How dare he deny the fruition of the amazingness that was Zim!

"Squee, you broke the circle! And I really liked those cards too. Oh well, I guess this is a victory for Earth. In your face, Space-boy!" Some of the uncertainty left Dib's face as he fell back on habit in an attempt to cover up some of the discomfort that Squee's actions had both removed and then replaced with a new kind awkwardness. He was still very much confused about what had just transpired. He had never heard of this game or using tarot cards to steal souls, and, despite his previous encounter with Mortos Der Soul Stealer, he still didn't know if you could take an alien's soul. Maybe if _he_ owned Zim's soul, he could command that the Invader cease all attempts to conquer his planet.

Instead of returning to the circle, Todd sat on the edge of his bed, staring out the window and still breathing a little too deeply form his quick actions and stress. Stupid, ungrateful alien! Stupid Pepito, dropping even _more_ hints in front of one of the only intelligent people on the planet likely to consider his real identity! And stupid Letta too, looking at him as if he was even crazier that the person who had just tried to make a deal for someone's soul or the person who had accepted ... and constantly spoke about himself in third person! When had it gotten so foggy outside?

Seeing Todd so upset, Pepito instantly felt bad. Not necessarily regretful, but bad all the same. When it was obvious that he wasn't coming back, he too left the broken circle to take a seat on the bed. Todd didn't so much as turn to face him. "Todd ... I'm sorry. May we speak in private?"

There wasn't really anything else that he could say in front of the others, but he really wanted a chance to at least explain his motivation behind the game. If he could have gained ownership of Zim's soul, then he could have forced him to return Todd's parents with no more harm than they might have already suffered. That way, Todd wouldn't have to worry about what would happen to him if they mysteriously disappeared. But it didn't look like he was going to listen.

Gaz's eyes narrowed at the two on the bed. Just what they needed right now, more useless drama over a stupid card game. She might have understood had it at least been a video game. "Squee, it was just a game! Stop being an idiot like Dib and get back over here!"

He could hear the others talking to him, but Todd was too absorbed in watching the fog to really care about what it was they were saying. It was really weird how it was getting so thick so fast. And that color ... he hadn't been out much in the last eight years, but the murky green didn't strike him as very natural looking.

"Todd, please. At least look at me." Pepito could tell that his voice sounded slightly worn already. He wasn't accustomed to apologizing as much as his friendship with Todd had been requiring lately, and it was bruising his ego a bit.

Pepito's voice broke through the near hypnotic daze that Todd felt himself slipping into. He shook his head, though he wasn't sure if it was in response to Pepito or the fog, and forced soft, but urgent words from his lips. "Get back."

"Amigo ..."

"Get back, get back, now!" This time the words were more pressing, cutting through the icy freeze of his growing fear and spurring him to action. Finally turning around, he pushed Pepito nearly off the bed before grabbing his arm and jerking him desperately back into the circle. "Zim, activate the shield! Shmee is back!"

Without question, a remote extended from Zim's pak and he pressed a button, queuing the devices that he had placed throughout the room to turn on the emergency electromagnetic field surrounding the magical circle as a thick, green, smoky fog flooded into the room through the window, under the bedroom door, and through the small space between the wall and the ceiling at an unnaturally fast pace, thickening even more once it was in the smaller space of the bedroom. This, though they hadn't known what form it would take, was what they had been waiting for.

As the smoggy substance filled the room, it pressed itself against, and around, the barrier. Even as the electromagnetic charge of the shield contacted and deflected its form, the being only increased its pressure around the wall of energy that kept it form its host. When that method didn't seem to be working, the vapor began to rotate, swirling around the barrier like a cyclone. Stray papers, light notebooks and pencils were easily lifted from their resting positions, caught up in the air currents that the thing was producing.

"Zim, you never said it could do _that_!" Huddling in the middle of the circle with the others, Dib removed his trench coat, draping it over Gaz's head to offer at least some protection if one of the flying objects that made its way through the shield hit her. He could still hear her complaining about not being able to see, but she didn't remove it.

"It? What the hell _is_ that!" While the others seemed to be seeing something else, all Letta could see was the debris flying around the room. It was like there was an invisible, industrial fan on top of the ceiling above them. "This _can't_ be happening!"

"But it _is_ happening! And things like this happen every day! You just have to open your eyes and mind to the possibility of the unknown to see that there are whole worlds of mystery and wonder just under our noses! And that Zim is an alien!" Dib shouted over the roar of the wind before receiving an elbow to the funny bone of his own arm from said alien.

"Silence, Dib-slave! That thing, it's doing-something! Just look!" Zim pointed directly in front of them. "There!" A few seconds passed before his hand moved in another direction. "And there!" Then another. "And there! And _there_ too!"

That was too much. She _had_ to see what was going on. Lifting Dib's coat slightly above her head, Gaz gasped as she took in the sight before them. The green mist continued to rotate around their small sanctuary, but it had slowed a bit since her eyes had been covered. Now, parts of the mist were thicker than others, and those parts seemed to be condensing into near discernible shapes. As the swirling motion slowed even more, she could see other, smaller, movements within the fog. In the air, around some of the solidifying figures, there were small gusts of wind that first pushed outward and then drew inward, signifying beating wings. "You guys, there are _things_ in there!"

Dib was shocked to hear Gaz actually sound like a frightened fifteen-year-old for once, and he tightened his grip on her coat-covered shoulders, pulling her further into the tightly packed group. He had been too absorbed to notice until then, but at some point they had all huddled together to get as far away from the shield as possible and, though most of them would never admit it, for reassurance. Even Zim was clinging to his left arm, muttering something about the 'halloweenies' escaping from his 'large head'.

When a shrill squeal rang through the room, he looked back into the fog to see several flying pig-like things with large tusks and moldy green skin that looked to have been cut and stretched over the large wing structures that supported them. Underneath the wings, thin, shriveled and possibly decayed feet hung lifelessly as the pigs darted around the room, separating the mist in their paths and coming dangerously near the barrier of the circle. The flapping of the wings made a metallic grinding sound with each beat, like Gaz had forgotten to oil her stuffed, flesh-eating minions.

Watching the pigs with a disturbed expression, Pepito tightened his hold on the trembling Todd, leaning closer to whisper into his ear. "It's okay, Amigo. They can't get to us. It just wants to scare us into letting down our defenses." This was actually better than before, when all of those objects had been hurling through the shield. Unless this entity got really creative, all they had to do was wait it out. It was wasting away its energy reserves with this little freak show, and when it was weak enough, hopefully they could capture it.

Nodding his head against Pepito's, Todd tried to calm his racing pulse. The piggies weren't really all that scary. What was more frightening were the dark silhouettes of partly formed monsters with unnatural angles and proportions on what might have once been human bodies. He could barely make them out through the dark room full of green vapor, moving around in strange, animalistic patterns and growling feraly at each other. There was also a crackly, yet wet, sound as multiple _somethings_ slithered across the carpet, periodically poking at the barrier and causing little sparks when they contacted.

But all of this paled in comparison with the tall, dark figure that was now emerging from the fog. Todd could feel his trembling grow worse as glowing, purple eyes stared into his own. The face was so dark that it was almost indiscernible, but he recognized the body structure, the outline of the messy, half-spiked hair, the long, thin, wiry arms that held a massive scythe that gleamed at them maliciously. As the figure took surprisingly heavy steps toward the group, Todd pulled his hand from Letta's arm to point at the extra creepy, Nightmare Nny ... as if the Scary Neighbor Man needed to be more scary! "D-do you guys see that?"

"What? What is it, Squee!" Letta quickly grabbed his pointing hand, taking it back into her own. She still couldn't see what they were talking about, but watching everyone else freak out about something invisible to her was really getting to her. She couldn't remember ever having been this afraid before. If it turned out to be some big joke that these kids had cooked up when she demanded to stay, she was going to kick Todd's ass! And then maybe she would hug him because she really hoped that it did turn out that way.

"It's n-nothing." If she couldn't see the horrors before them, then he certainly wasn't going to paint her a mental picture. "Just stay close to the center."

When the Nightmare finally stood before the shield, he could see that its legs were made up of the same bloody sinews from Wednesday night, winded together to form the two appendages. As the figure became more dense, those behind it seemed to thin out proportionately. The shadow creatures were mere wisps of fog.

"_Hello again, Todd."_

"Shmee ... why are you doing this?"

The figure shook its head at the question in a chastising manner. "_We'll have none of that. You've been a very naughty boy. You do realize that I have been looking for you, yes? You wouldn't have been _hiding _from your old pal, now would you? Hiding with these transient flesh-bags that you call friends! I remember when I was the only one you called friend!"_

After a momentary pause, Shmee regained his composure. "_But you are so very lost now, my boy. Do you really think that any of them truly care about you? Ha! You know all too well that the others only want you so long as you are useful to them in some way, and as soon as you cease to be profitable, they will cast you aside like last week's left over mystery meat. They will abandon you, __but _I _never will. Our union is inevitable. It is inescapable. It is what we both need!"_

On the inside, Todd felt like curling into a little ball and hiding somewhere. He felt like crying because a part of him still believed what Shmee was telling him about other people, but apparently Shmee had only ever wanted to use him as well, so nothing he said could really be trusted. "I don't need you, Shmee. I ... I don't know what you need. Why are you here?"

"_You are wrong, little Todd. Without me, you have already become far too dependent on other humans. You have forgotten what I taught you about trusting: how it leaves you vulnerable, how it draws others of your kind like vultures to a fresh carcass. They pick away at your precious innocence until you are empty and cold, just like them. You know why I am here. I am here to collect what is mine. Make no mistake, child, you are mine, and I will have you. _

Todd felt Pepito's grip tighten on him once again, and hoped that it was more protective than possessive, but either way it was a welcome comfort compared to how Shmee was currently acting.

"Uh, actually," Dib spoke up,"I think he meant 'why are you here' as in 'why are you on Earth?'"

Shmee glared at the pointy-haired boy. How did Todd know so many humans who could see him! And an Irken! That must be how they knew that he wasn't form Earth.

When there was no answer, Dib persisted in his questioning. "How many like you are there on this planet? Is Bitters planning a conquest?"

"_Even if I knew the answers to your questions, human, why would I share that information with the likes of you?"_

"_This_ is why, transparent, floating, squiggledy power cell!" Zim held up his remote, quickly pushing a sequence of buttons. While the Shmee-creature had been giving its dramatic speech, its strength had been visibly diminishing. Now was the time to act, while it was weaker and caught off guard! A light on the remote flashed, confirming that the shield was down so that his signals could pass to the other devices in the room. "Computer, seal the room and capture the anaphasic life-form!"

The Nightmare Nny looked quickly to the window then around the room. The entire thing was sealed in the same energy that had been keeping him from Todd! And the Irken was taking something else out of his pak: a fluffy, pink teddy bear. He knew what that was, and there was no way that he would allow himself to be imprisoned and tossed away again! However ...

As the devices on the walls worked together to locate the energy being, they began constructing a box of the same deflective wave length around the creepy, Johnny-like figure, who smiled a smile so big that Todd almost thought his lower jaw would break off from the rest of his head. He didn't have much time to let this scary visage chill him to the bone because just as the last pane of energy was about to be placed, the figure dispersed.

Todd screamed as the red tendons shot out at him from the darkness of his bedroom floor. He tried to fight them, but this time there were so many! They were all over his body, wrapping around him, holding him down, shooting what felt like super-cooled liquid into him again. "No! _No_! Please, not this again!"

"Todd! What's wrong?" Though Todd had fallen to his back and was now screaming and twisting this way and that, Letta still held his hand in her own. He didn't seem to be hearing her. "What's wrong with him!" She looked up at Pepito, who was also bent over him.

"It's attacking him! Keep holding him. Dib, Gaz, help me get this thing off! If it can touch him, we can touch it!" He slipped the hand he was holding under his leg so he could hold Todd down better and still have the use of his own hands to work with before peeling the tingly, sticky veins from Todd's body. Soon, Gaz and Dib were busy doing the same thing, but the veins were growing back at an alarming rate.

"No, Shmee! No! Please, don't do this to me! Don't make me do this!"

"_It's really not up to me, I'm afraid. The ball is in your court, Todd. Let me in or the dream will have the same ending. You do remember the ending, right?"_

Tears flooded down Todd's cheeks as he relived the dreaded night terror, and the voices of all those people cried out in pain and fear in unison as they were consumed, but never fully allowed to die.

"_Yesss, I can see that you do remember. That will happen if you keep fighting, and these humans that you have the naivety to call friends will be the first to go. The decision is yours."_

"No."

"_No? No what, dear boy?"_

"Don't hurt them."

"_As you wish." _

Suddenly, against all of their efforts, the Squeak stopped struggling all together, against them as well as the sinews covering his body, which sunk in completely as if his skin had turned to gelatin. One of Zim's eyes grew large while the other squinted at the Squeaky-kids's body. "That ... wasn't supposed to happen."

Letta stared down at him dumbly before looking to the others, whose expressions made her stomach flip in fear and dread. "W-what just happened?"

Dib met her gaze with serious eyes. "It's inside of him." He really didn't understand the ramifications of that himself because this wasn't an earthly spirit that he could guess how to exercise. He didn't know how to get it out or what it might do to Todd if they didn't.

"Squee! Wake up, you whiny idiot!" There was a loud, resounding smack as Gaz hit the unconscious boy as hard as she could. She got a nasty glare from Pepito at that, but screw him! She wasn't the type to just sit around saying, 'Oh no, the evil, energy monster is inside him!' unless there was some real entertainment value in doing so. This kind of hesitation was what got patients killed on the operating table. Still, he wasn't waking up.

"Oh, God. He needs a hospital! I'm calling an ambulance!" As Letta started digging in her purse to find her cell phone and do so, a gloved hand grabbed the purse, flinging it across the room.

"No! He comes with me to Zim's base! Only I have the technology to help him!" When she gave him a wide-eyed, tearful look, Zim realized his mistake. "Because my country has better technology than yours, and my parents are secret military scientists that now work for the FBI! So come, feeble Americans!"

Dib sighed at Zim's stupidity, but he didn't have time to dwell on that. "Zim is right. He does have the best technology around here. And the hospital would never believe our story. You can't treat someone if you have no idea what's wrong with them."

As much as he wanted to deny it, to insist that Todd be taken to _his_ house for treatment, Pepito knew that Zim and Dib were right. Even if he did know a lot about possession, this might not be the same at all. At least Zim was familiar with Shmee's race. "Alright. Dib has the biggest car. Someone help me carry him."

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END CHAPTER!

Notes:

-Beta: EtherealJade on Deviant Art

- "I am not short, I just don't have to bend down as far." is a quote, I don't know by who.

-"Punch Club" is an obvious allusion to "Fight Club". Gaz was reading the book in "Rise of Zitboy".

-I took the phrase "human meat puppet" from Jack Fenton on Danny Phantom. He used it in the episode in which he and the family go to a college reunion at Vlad's place.

- "Pessimism is just an ugly word for pattern recognition." is a quote, no source again.

- "Who are you, and why should I care?" is a quote by Bender on Futurama.

-Assumption comes from the novel Last Cell by Tim Powers. Wikipedia and everything . Com both have good articles describing how to play.

-Why Zim can see Shmee: Ocular implants are standard Invader issue, and, at least in this fic, the Invaders can mentally adjust the implants to different settings, making them capable of perceiving a huge range of wave-lengths, including Shmee's. In case it wasn't obvious, everyone in the room could see and hear Shmee except Letta. This goes back to the revelations of chapter nine.


	13. Chapter 13

**Sublime Awakenings Chapter Thirteen: Too Close for Comfort**

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**Warnings: Violence, gore, torture, sexual aggression (no rape), religious satire. I've been trying to keep the rating of this story down to "T", but I think this chapter might be rated "M", even though I've tried to be kind of sparse on the gory details.

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Zim gathered his instruments from the Squeak's room quickly while the others were busy moving his body down stairs and into the Dib's dirt-runner. By the time he had exited the pitiful human dwelling, Dib's 'automobile' was packed and ready to go. It seemed that the sight of a group of adolescent pig-smellies lugging the body of another into an nonemergency transport unit had only drawn the attention of the same nosy old lady next door. As soon as they arrived at his beautiful base, he hopped out of the passenger seat and marched at a brisk pace up the walkway to open the door before his security system opened fire at the intruders he was letting in.

As soon as the humans were all inside, Zim slammed the door shut, only to be met with a painful, if routine, metallic thud to his wig-covered head. "Ah! GIR, get off my head!"

Instead of obeying, GIR simply leaned over Zim's head to look first into his disguised eyes and then to the visitors. "Hiya, Master! Ohhh ... they's a lot of people here ... let's have a tea party!"

"Eh, everyone, this is my mentally challenged robot dog, GIR." Zim turned his attention back to GIR with all the forced patience of the human parental unit of a two year old worm-baby. "Yes, GIR, there _are_ a lot of humans in our base. But they are here for a mission, and not for a tea party. Now, _get off my head_!"

Holding his wig in place, Zim shook his head violently, dislodging the green-dog-costumed robot that could never seem to comprehend the fact that human dogs didn't talk. Because of this, he had taken to telling anyone who noticed that GIR was an artificial dog that he planned to someday sale in mass, but that he hadn't managed to work the kinks out of quite yet. Actually, if he still needed plans to take over this ball of dirt, that wouldn't be a bad one to try out as he already had quite a few buyers lined up for whenever the GIRs were ready.

GIR toppled to the floor with force and rolled across it, laughing. "I wanna do that again!"

"No, GIR."

"Again! Again!" Just when he was about to be forced into a tantrum, his short attention span switched gears abruptly when he saw that the other humans were holding another one a few feet off the pink and beige checkered tile floor in between them. Approaching the unmoving human, he lifted a clothe paw to poke his side. "Awww. He's so cute. Like a puppy! Can I play with him, Master?"

"No, GIR. This human is sick."

"Like ma piggie?" His artificial eyes somehow filled with tears behind his fake doggy-ones, causing them to wet as well. "I miss you, Pig! I miss you so much! Why my pig-friend, masta, why?"

"Just because GIR! You played with it too roughly. But ... uh ... do not worry. The pig is ... eh ... the pig is living happily in space, having been adopted by a friendly colony of Giant Space Pigs. They will teach it how to grow large, and people will ride it and laugh with sickening glee as they drink Space Soda!"

"Really?" GIR sniffled a few time, and the tears came to a halt.

"Yeah, sure. Why not? But, you are not to come near this human. Do you understand?" The last thing he needed was to have GIR's madness mixed in with what was already a kink in his plan.

"I dooo."

Zim rested one hand on his hip, looking down at him with incredulity and a tried kind of expectation. "Ya don't really, do ya?"

"Noooo."

"GIR, just stay up in the house, alright?"

"Yes, my master!" GIR's posture straightened in duty mode before he was back to his usual self only seconds later. "Hi ya, Gazzy!"

"Uh, hi, I guess." A hint of worry crept into the Gaz's voice as memories flooded her poor antisocial mind. He wasn't going to hug or ... _kiss_ her again, was he?

Zim smirked knowingly. "Riiight. Com-put-tor! Do not allow GIR into my labs until I change this command!"

"Command confirmed."

"Good. Now, humans-_fellow humans_-follow me into my amazing base! But, don't touch anything or I'll ... I'll render you unconscious and let my pet dog play with you until you are in a state that requires that I make up an elaborate happy ending for you so that he doesn't cry! Not that an Elite such as myself really cares if he cries."

"Of course not, Zim." Opps. Dib really hadn't meant to let the sarcastic comment slip. Starting an argument would just slow them down, but after all this time it was force of habit.

"Silence, Dib-thing! You know nothing, and we do not have time for your relentless, nonsensical, smeet-like squabbling!" They had to be fast about this because Zim didn't like the idea of the anaphasic life form unconstrained, even in a human body.

"Zim, I was more mature than you when I was eleven, and you know it." This was pretty pathetic considering that Zim claimed to have been flying space ships since before he was born. Dib still wasn't sure how old he really was, at least by human standards, but he had a tendency to forget that Zim had actually been an adult when he arrived because of his consistent immaturity.

"Your filthy head is full of delusions and lies, human." Zim had to make a concentrated effort not to break out into a full fledged defense that would waste away his precious time and possibly ruin his only legitimate plan in months. He turned pointedly from the humans, leading them into the kitchen to open the refrigerator entrance to his real base. Even through it was his largest lift for nonstorage, he couldn't help feeling claustrophobic with all five teenage humans crammed in with him.

"_This_ is your basement?" Letta asked in an astonished voice after the lift released them. It was amazing! She couldn't even guess as to the functions of most of the equipment in the room!

Gaz answered before Zim could get an threatening word in edgewise. "I know. Lame, isn't it? He doesn't even have any video games."

Shifting the weight of Squee's legs in his arms, Dib scanned the lab area before turning suspiciously to Zim. "Where are Squee's parents?"

"What? Ohhh, them. Eh, they're ... on my moon base!"

Letta stared at him with wide eyes. "You have a _moon_ base too?"

"Zim, I swear, if you've done anything to them," Dib began.

"_Zim_? Preform some hideous brain switching experiment on a pair of stoopid and easily captured Eartinoids? Don't be silly, Dib-thing." Actually, Zim had mostly learned his lesson with the brain switching a few years back when he had exchanged the brain of a law enforcement drone with that of a squid. If the brains of two Irkens were switched, both individuals would loose the last ten minutes of their memories before the paks kicked back in and rebooted the brains, which were little more than organic relay systems for the paks. With humans, the brain apparently _was_ the individual, so brain switching was not an effective method for wiping memories.

After brushing the accusations aside with a wave of his hand, Zim pointed to a large window that doubled as a video screen in the side lab that the lift had taken them to. "Put the Squeak in that room! Then, I will use my superior knowledge of superior technology to display the contents of his unconscious mind on this screen!"

After helping Pepito carry Squee's body down a ramp and into the room, which was set lower than the lab used to monitor it, Dib felt a tingly sense of deja vu as he took in the white, metallic room. There was one chair in the middle of the room, which Squee was strapped into, on a circular, steel platform that was the only floor aside from a narrow walkway leading to the exit. The ceiling was a dome with a large, pink sphere protruding from it. "Zim! This is the room you used to find out that I threw the muffin at you in fifth grade!" It was a strange coincidence that energy beings had given him powers in those Zim-induced imaginings.

"Correct, Dib-worm. How perceptive of you." He sent the Dib a wicked, yet playful smile. "That same technology will now allow us to see into someone else's, less enormous, head. Ya think his head will be as full of spooky as yours?"

"Stop making fun of my head! I happen to think that I've grown into it rather nicely!"

"So you admit that it at least _was_ freakishly huge, even by intergalactic standards?"

"What! No! Come on! Intergalactic standards?" Although, there was that time that Zim's leaders had said his head was big without any known reference to other humans ....

"Not that Zim would know anything about intergalactic standards, of course." He smiled widely. "Now, back to the control room!"

Zim set a brisk pace on the way back. Once everyone was in the control room, he took his place behind the control panel. "Computer, set up an electromagnetic barrier around the subject. And be quick about it this time!"

"Zim, are you sure that's going to hold him?" Dib eyed him skeptically. It hadn't worked very well in Squee's room.

"_Of course_ Zim is sure. The mighty Zim is always sure."

"Well, have you ever tested its effectiveness on an energy being before?" Pepito asked nervously. He couldn't remember ever having felt this helpless before.

"Not _tested_ as such, no. But, rest assured, young Earth-larva, that I, Zim, have everything perfectly under control! Com-put-tor, initialize procedure number four-three-six-six-nine-five."

"Sure thing, Zim."

The computer could almost be _heard_ rolling its nonexistent eyes. Zim took up an indignant pose that he probably wouldn't have bothered with if he didn't have company. "Hey, show some respect! I am your master!"

"Processing."

"That's more like it." It still sounded sarcastic, but that was sadly what usually passed for obedience in Zim's base. He watched as the screen flashed to life, losing translucence and concealing the boy on the other side, but showing only blackness.

-----------------------SCENE SHIFT-------------------

When Todd regained some form of coherency, he was standing on something flat and hard. He could see only darkness because his eyes were shut tight. Perhaps subconsciously his mind was instinctively resisting whatever horror the monster that roamed his mind had in store. But, as usual, the more he tried to ignore something, the harder it became. Strangled sobs, low whimpers, and grunts meet his ears. "Shmee ... what's going on?" he asked in a timid voice.

"_Why don't you open your eyes and find out, my boy?"_

"No. I can't-I won't."

"_Too afraid already? After this last week, I find that difficult to believe." _

Todd gave no reply. He was obviously going to receive no sympathy from Shmee. The bear seemed to have changed since his childhood, but then, it could just be that Shmee had always been this way toward those who displeased him, and Todd had always simply been on his good side before.

"_It's a shame. You used to be so much more compliant. Well, you leave me no choice. If you won't open your eyes, then I will do it for you." _

Todd barely had time to release a desperate 'no' before he was bombarded with the same swirling pressure from his room, but this time, with no barrier, the pressure did more than just swirl around him. It seemed to melt into his body, and on some level he knew that this body was merely a metaphor for the degree of control that Shmee choose to assert over his mind. His real body had already been taken over.

As the being entered him, Todd felt as if the part of him that _was him_ was being pushed down into some tiny place inside the body, from which he could only experience the actions of the body, but do nothing about them.

"_Ah, that's much better, don't you agree, Todd? Now, about those eyes." _With little effort, the boy's eyes were forced open, letting in light from dangling laps of rusted metal with florescent bulbs.

If Todd had had more control of the body, he would have gasped at the sight before him. He was in a concrete room with no windows and walls, decorated with sharp and painful looking devices hung upon them. Directly in front of him, Mark Casil was tied down in an Inquisition style, iron chair with spikes penetrating nearly everywhere that his bare skin contacted the metal. To his right, there was a small, square table with an array of medical devices setting on its gleaming, but bloody surface.

When Todd's eyes met his own, the weary and bleeding man seemed to just realize that he was standing there. "You! You fucking, little psycho bastard! Since the day you were born, you were a no good piece of shit! If only your stupid mother had gotten a goddamn abortion like I told her to! That's right, bitch! Are you glad you kept this nut job _now_?"

He felt the mouth smirk against his will as Shmee forced the body to look in the direction of his father's gaze. About eight feet away, his mother was lying face down on a flat, metal table. She too was strapped down with tight bonds on her legs, arms, middle section and upper back. The places that were strapped were the only ones where she wasn't covered with porcupine quills. It was like some sick, twisted version of acupuncture.

Thanks to his love of the Discovery Channel, Todd knew that a typical quill is three or four inches long, and that the quills of New World porcupines have backwards facing barbs, which work to pull the needle-sharp keratin further into the tissues with normal muscle movements. He could only assume that the process went faster when one struggled, and by the looks of Jennifer, and the fact that there was roughly an inch and a half of each quill on the surface of her skin, she had either been struggling a lot or she had been there for a few days. If they weren't extracted soon, they would continue to move through her body, puncturing vital organs, killing her and eventually coming out the other side.

"I always knew you would turn out to be a fucking lunatic, but I never thought that you would have the balls to pull something like _this_!"

Todd's body only looked at him.

"You better let me outta this goddamn thing, now! I'm gonna see what I can do about getting your mother a _post_-birth abortion! Why the hell are you just standing there! Fuck, _do_ something already! What do you want from us?"

Then Shmee was making the face smile and moving forward, toward Mark. Todd tried to stop him, but the pressure tensed against him, keeping him as confined as his parents, though _he_ wasn't in any real pain. When Shmee picked a scalpel from the table, moving even closer to his father, Todd felt even more uneasy.

"_Don't be so down, Todd. Isn't this what you've been dreaming about for the last four years, ever since you realized that you hate these people?"_ Shmee's voice rang out inside the body so that only Todd could hear it.

"_Those were _nightmares_, Shmee! Please, don't do this!" _His own voice stayed within the body as well, probably because he didn't have enough power to override Shmee's hold on it.

"_How do you distinguish nightmares from dreams, my boy? If you hate them, then why would their demise be something that you fear? Besides, I'm not doing this, we are." _Prying Mark's mouth open, carefully as not to be bitten, Shmee placed the scalpel against the corner of his lips.

"_Shmee, _stop_! I don't want to do this! I don't want to _be _this!"_ But it was already too late. His hand ran the blade from Mark's mouth to his ear, letting blood leak down his chin from the open wound. His father grunted loudly as tears ran down his face to mix with the blood, and Todd felt sick in some indescribable, nonphysical way. He _had_ dreamed of killing his parents many times over the years, but he had never tortured them like this. Sure, he had screamed at them, lectured them first about why he was about to kill them, but the deed itself had always been relatively fast. He hated those dreams, even if they didn't quite qualify as nightmares, but this was so much worse, so needlessly cruel.

"_But that's exactly the point. And, if you don't mind my saying so, you haven't been choosing your companions very well for someone who doesn't wish to become like _this_!" _On 'this', the hand moved to the other, left, side of Mark's face, cutting his pale face apart there as well.

"_Nny wouldn't let me turn into this. He would kill me first. He promised. You're the one who was always telling me to hurt people!" _

Shmee chuckled out loud. _Or if you hug him, eh? But, I wasn't just referring to the man who tells you grotesquely detailed jokes about his latest victims. Remember, my boy, I know _everything _that you know." _

When Todd said nothing, he turned back to the table, replacing the scalpel with a clear, plastic squirt bottle filled with salted lemon juice before answering the long standing question of the man before them. "What do we want from you? First, _father_, we want you to smile. You never seemed to do that in our presence." He tilted Todd's head to the side, taping the chin lightly as if wondering why before looking back into the man's brown eyes, which were without the reflective glasses for once. "And then, then we simply want you to _scream_."

Turning the bottle upside down, Shmee placed it over Mark's punctured back, then squeezed out half of the contents. There was a deep groan, but still no scream. The man seemed to be purposefully defying them, trying his best not to show pain. No matter. He reached behind the chair to turn a metal crank, tightening the bonds that held Mark to the chair, and forcing the, now wet and salty, spikes in deeper.

"Aaahhhhhh!" Mark finally let out an ear-splitting screech, opening his mouth wide, wider than ever before thanks to the Glasgow smile that he had just received, and riped his own face apart.

The blood was flowing in torrents now, and Todd thought that, had he been in control of his body, he would have thrown up until there was nothing left in his metaphorical stomach. "_Oh God, stop it." _

Shmee backed up a few feet as more blood accumulated on the stained floor. "_Very well. Shall we move on to our other guest?" _Not waiting for an answer, he walked them to the other side of the room, where Jennifer lay, apparently passed out from the pain. To wake her, he tugged on one of the quills. _"Let's see if she can ignore you now." _

She woke with an agonized gasp. "No. No more ... please. It hurts ... it hurts so much."

After dousing her back side with the same cocktail that he had applied to Mark, Shmee threw the empty bottle to the side and moved to her feet.

Even though Todd hadn't noticed before, there was an instrument on her feet that looked like an interlocking pair of iron shoes. Its purpose was made clear when his hands moved to take a Bunsen burner from another table at the end of the one his mother was lying on. "_Shmee, don't. If you're trying to teach me something, it isn't working. This isn't the way." _

Cranking the burner up to its hottest level, Shmee applied the blue flame to the metal shoes, watching as Jennifer began to cry and struggle as they turned a hot red.

As she struggled against the leather binds helplessly, the quills worked themselves ever deeper into her body. The pain in her feet must have been so hot that it felt freezing cold. "_Please_! I'm sorry! Whatever I did, I'm sorry! God, help me! I'm sorry!"

"_Shmee, stop it now! Please! This is wrong! If you're not going to stop, just kill them, please!" _

"_But if we kill them, they won't learn anything." _He chuckled again.

"_That's not the point, and you know it." _And Todd did as well. He had to. Had to remember that his parents weren't really there. These were figments of his imagination. They had to be, otherwise-no, they were.

"_And what is the point, my boy?" _

"_I don't know! I told you, whatever you're trying to do isn't working!" _

Todd was right. The boy wasn't terrified, and he had yet to completely break down. This was traumatizing, but not quite in the way that he had meant for it to be. "_You know, you may be right. How about we make a little deal? I will relinquish my hold over your body on one condition. If you think that they would be better off dead, then you must do it yourself." _

Oh no. Not this again. "_But, Shmee ... I ...." _

When Todd hesitated, Shmee moved the burner from the metal to the skin of Jennifer's ankle, making her scream even louder.

"_Okay! Yes! I'll do it! Just Stop it!" _

"_Very well." _Shmee turned off the heat source and returned it to the table before loosening his grip on Todd's mental body.

When he regained control of the body, Todd let out a ragged sigh before choking on the smell of burnt flesh. He once again looked around the room in search of something quick, something to the point. Of course, there wasn't a gun in sight, which made sense considering that he was pretty sure of where he was. Though he had never been there to know what it looked like, Shmee had.

_Quickly, my Todd, or I may change my mind. _To emphasize his point, Shmee moved his arm, brushing his hand carelessly through the quills on Jennifer's back.

"Shmee, stop! I-I need a weapon!" When his mother screamed again, Todd jerked his hand back as his eyes landed on a large butcher knife on the wall. As least the cut would be heavy, swift and even.

"Weapon ... T-Todd? Don't ... p-please don't."

Oh, shit. He had said that last sentence out loud, hadn't he? "I have to." He attempted to make his voice cold and uncaring, but it came out a little broken all the same. He didn't want to make her think that he felt bad about this, that she had a chance at living, because she didn't.

"Why?"

"Because I hate you. Now shut up or it will be worse." Even if he _did_ hate them, he couldn't imagine wishing this type of prolonged pain on anyone.

Walking to the back wall, he removed the ample blade, stopping by his father on the way back. He looked nearly dead already, but his chest was still rising and falling. Todd took a deep breath before raising the knife over his head. If he was religious, this would be the point where he would ask for forgiveness for what he was about to do. But forgiveness was bullshit, a cop-out of personal responsibility. He brought the knife down hard, cutting through his father's thigh, severing his artery and nearly doing the same with his leg. There was no way that he could have decapitated the man from the angle that the chair allowed, but he knew that that particular artery bleed out fast. If he had been thinking more clearly, it would have been the one he went for on himself Friday night.

His black jeans and sneakers were bloodied in the spray before he could move out of the way, but that hardly mattered at this point. Holding the dripping knife out, away from his body, he made his way back to his mother's side before raising it yet again. She was sobbing violently now, but he only stilled for a moment before letting it drop again, slicing cleanly through her neck. There was a sickening plop as her head hit the floor seconds later. It was followed by a loud clang when he dropped the knife to be overtaken by the pool of red that was draining onto the floor.

"There. It's done." There was nothing but silence. "Shmee?" There was still no answer, but now there was a steadily growing sound of sirens in the background. "Shmee, are you here?" There were footsteps on the stairs leading down to the room that he was in. The knob jiggled, but was apparently locked. "N-ny?"

Suddenly, whoever was on the other side of the door rammed into it, breaking the rusted latches instead of the lock and falling slightly forward, but catching himself before hitting the bloody floor. "Todd! What are you doing here?"

"P-Pepito? I ... don't ... I-" The sound of sirens had grown louder now that the door was open. This didn't make any sense. It wasn't real-was it?

"After Shmee attacked you, you just got up and ran. We didn't know where you went. Letta ... she called the police to help look for you." Dark, fiery eyes roamed over the messy room, widening in belayed recognition of Todd's parents. "Todd ... what did you do? How did they get here?"

"Shmee ... he was hurting them. He-he said that I had to. I didn't mean it. It wasn't real. It wasn't!" Though he hadn't cried before, he definitely was now.

Pepito moved swiftly across the room, taking him in a tight embrace. "Shh. It's okay, Amigo. It's okay."

Todd's body racked as he sobbed into Pepito's shirt. "But, it's not. It's not okay. Nothing can make this okay."

As Pepito lowered himself to his knees, he pulled Todd with him.

He could feel the, now cold, blood soaking into his pants, but payed it little mind in his distraught state. At this point, he wasn't even sure that he had the strength to stand on his own, and he had no desire to release his grip on what little comfort he could find in the wake of such heinous acts.

"It will be okay, Todd. I can make it okay. I can make this go away." One of Pepito's hands left his back to run through his hair as the he placed little kisses on Todd's head and cheek.

"You can? H-how?"

Pepito kissed his lips and then smiled in a inappropriately comfortable manner. "You have to give yourself to me ... completely."

"W-what?"

Another kiss. "I can take away all of the fear, all of the pain. I can make sure that you never feel bad about anything that you want to do ever again."

Todd shook his head. "I ... I don't want that."

"Don't you? Don't you want _me_?"

"I ... don't know."

"But I do. And you're just going to have to trust me."

"Wha-" Before the word had left his mouth, Todd was pushed down, onto his back, on the bloody floor, and Pepito was on top of him. He tried to push him off, but his arms were pinned above his head forcefully before Pepito leaned in for another kiss. This time, Todd turned his head to the side, and the kiss landed on his cheek instead of his lips.

"Come on, Todd, doesn't this feel good?" One of his hands traveled down to lift Todd's shirt, then gathered some blood from the floor before running slowly up his chest, tracing some sort of pattern.

"Pepito, _what_ are you doing! Let me up!" Maybe this time he really would throw up ... on Pepito. Maybe _that_ would get him off of him!

"Don't struggle, _Amigo_." The old nick name was spat out, almost sarcastically. "It's so much easier if you don't struggle."

"It would be _easier_ if you would get the hell off me!" Even though he tried to sound strong, he was beginning to be deeply afraid. "I don't want you, okay? I don't!"

Suddenly, the bloody hand was raised to his forehead to form a fist in his hair and pull his head to the floor, coating it, like his clothes, in blood. "Well, that's just too bad, because I want you. I would have preferred it not to be this way, Todd, but I _will_ have you, willing or no."

"P-Pepi ... you're scaring me."

Pepito laughed darkly before shaking his head. "Oh, I'm sorry, Squee." He lowered his head to within an inch of Todd's. "This," he kissed him harshly, "is going to hurt like Hell, quite literally, I'm afraid. But, don't worry. Soon you won't care. You might even grow to like it."

-----------Back at the lab----------------

As the computer played out the scene, Letta buried her head even further into Dib's shoulder than it already was. "What's happening now?" she asked yet again.

Dib only shook his head at the screen in front of them.

"Pft. Wussy," Gaz sneered at the blond. Now _this_ was high quality entertainment. If only it was a game.

Pepito's hand, which until then had lain flat against the surface of the screen, dropped to the side before moving back up to slam it so hard that the hand felt numb afterward. How dare Shmee use him to hurt Todd! "Something must be done to remedy this! We have to get him out of there." He turned around to face Zim at the control console.

"Silence, lowly worm! Zim has a plan! I can hook someone else up to the system, allowing them access to the Squeaky-kid's mind."

"Ohhhh." Hazel eyes grew so large that they looked almost unnatural on Gaz's face because it was such a rarity. "I'll go." This had the possibility of being the ultimate gaming experience ever.

"Wait. Did you see anything in Todd's room when Shmee attacked us?" Pepito looked her over, assessing the situation before she even answered, but remained quiet on the matter. This whole thing was starting to make a strange kind of sense.

"Yeah. Don't worry, I can see the freak."

"But that's exactly why you can't be the one to go." How much could he afford to tell them without making the meaning of what was playing out on the screen all too clear? "From what I've been able to discern from Todd's story, Shmee can manipulate anyone who has the ability to see or hear him. That's why he was able to make his neighbor, Johnny, accost him. If anyone who can see him goes in, there is a chance that Shmee could just overshadow them as well. And Shmee is attached to Todd. I don't think he would think twice about killing any of us."

It was true that his lock would probably protect his life from Shmee, but what he had said about the other seers went decuple for him. Even if Zim's little, untested, barrier could keep a possessed human trapped in this lab, it might not be able to keep the Antichrist in. And, really, there was no reason that Shmee couldn't choose to control their physical bodies the way he had with Johnny. So, as much as he would like to personally kick Shmee's sorry lack of ass for what he was doing to his best friend, there was really only one person in the room who could go.

Letta looked up from Dib's shoulder to see all eyes on her, as expected. She was glad that she had already thrown up the pizza from dinner onto the floor of Zim's 'beautiful base' during the torture of Todd's parents, because her stomach was now twisting and turning like a feral cat at the vet's office. Resolute tears fell as she gave the monitor a quick glance. She felt her whole frame start to tremble, but she wasn't sure if it was from fear, worry or anger. Maybe all three. "I ... I'll do it." Todd was practically her brother, and, if she could help it, she would never leave family behind.

----------Squee's Imagination-----------

Todd struggled harder when Pepito's tongue was forced into his mouth. He managed to free one of his hands to push at his shoulder, but then he realized something. This kiss was rough, domineering and completely lacked any kind of interpersonal passion. It was nothing like kissing Pepito, but it _was_ familiar. His hand went limp for a moment, and he stopped struggling as most of his fear was converted to anger. The hand formed a fist and he pulled it back before punching the one atop him as hard as he could. When the other was pushed off and onto the floor himself by the force of the blow, Todd swiftly sat up and grabbed the bloody butcher knife once again, turning it on 'Pepito'.

"Shmee!" He was really starting to hate his childhood bear, maybe even more than his parents.

Even with the knife to his throat, Shmee laughed at him. "Dear boy, for a moment I was certain that you weren't going to figure that one out. But, go ahead, kill me if you wish."

Todd pressed the knife harder against the Pepito-look-a like's neck, but drew no blood. "You have no idea how much I would like to right now. But that wouldn't do any good, would it? Just like with Johnny. None of this is real."

"Oh, it's real, Todd. Just not in the way that you have come to let yourself believe. The material reality is the lie! Believing in other people, who will always leave and betray you, is the lie! Only I will always be there!" Thus saying, the anaphasic entity dispersed into fog, which rolled around him.

"Damn it! _Why_ are you doing this to me?" Todd yelled at the, now empty, spot before him. Instead of an answer, he felt a hand fist in his hair, from behind this time, as he was jerked forcefully to his feet and then flung onto the metal table that his mother had previously occupied. Her body wasn't there now, which proved that this was indeed similar to a dream ... or nightmare. Tightening his grip on the knife that he still held, he attempted to sit up, but mechanical arms shot out from the sides of the table, restraining him yet again and forcing him to drop it.

"Because you're a prime specimen, and the world has got to know the truth!"

Forcing his head to the side, Todd saw Dib standing before him. He was wearing blue scientific goggles and a white lab coat in the shape of his favorite trench coat, which was still open, showing his 'Aliens Exist' t-shirt underneath. In the background, Gaz was sprawled on a couch, eating chips and watching with mild interest.

"Shmee, this isn't going to work again."

The copy of Dib stepped forward to hold the bottom of his shirt, using another scalpel to cut it up the middle. Next, he sat the blade aside in exchange for an empty syringe and a rubber string. Despite Todd's struggling, he was able to work the rubber under his upper right arm and tie a fast knot. "First, I'm going to need a blood sample. It wouldn't do not to have any backup evidence if you die during the dissection." He stabbed the needle in violently before extracting some blood. "Your DNA is actually where I expect to find the real evidence anyway. I'm sure that after all those years of dissolution, there aren't many physically obvious differences between human beings and yourself. Still, to be scientific, I need to check."

Todd cringed a little as the needle left his arm just as roughly as it was inserted. He was pretty used to blood tests because of the D.H.M.I., but even the nurses there were more gentle than this. As a cold marker traced the dissection lines on his torso, he glared at 'Dib'. "How stupid do you think I am? I know its you, Shmee."

"Ah, Shmee. Now _he_ would be a fine specimen, if I could actually get my hands on him. No offense to you, of course. Ha." He looked overhead at a camera that appeared to have been set up to film the operation. "Look, I'm apologizing to it like it's a person! And talking out loud to myself again. Oh, well, I guess I can always edit some of the audio out before I present my findings to the Swollen Eyeballs." He looked back down, trading the marker for the scalpel again.

"I have administered no sedative or pain killers of any kind, as such chemicals could potentially effect the results of the procedure." This time 'Dib' appeared to be simply making audio notes for the film. A white sleeved hand rose to Todd's chest, cutting a deep line between his shoulders. Dib's face remained impassive as Todd's tensed with pain and tears ran down his eyes, like he was merely a dead frog that would get him yet another A in science class.

The pain was almost as much as when Todd had sliced his arm open, and he could already fill the sticky blood starting to run down his neck and shoulders. None of this was making any sense, and this time, he had no way out. He vaguely thought that maybe being inside Johnny's head had made Shmee go insane before the pain became even greater, blotting out conscious thought, as the scalpel ran down his stomach.

-----------Back at the lab----------------

Pepito winced as Todd's scream was relayed throughout the control room, both out of sympathy and because Todd could still scream louder than any other human he had ever known. The screen was now split in half between a clear window into the chamber and a video of his ongoing mental ordeals. Through the first one, on the left, he could see Zim making adjustments to a new chair in front of Todd, which Letta now occupied. "Hurry it up, Zim! This is getting really unsavory!"

"You can't rush perfection, human!" Zim spared a short moment to glare at the worm-babies in his control room before looking back to finish what he was doing. "There! Alright, dirt-child, the computer is going to monitor your brain waves, and, if all goes according to plan, you should remain at a half way point between conscious awareness and something like sleep. We will be able to use your brain to communicate with both you and the Squeaky-kid, and we will be able to pull _you_ out of the nightmare world if need be. Do you understand?"

"Not really."

"Good! Sit tight!" Before the human girl could question the amazing science that most of her species couldn't understand anyway, Zim marched back into the control room.

"Wow, Dib. You could play the mad scientist in one of those crappy, B Scifi movies that you always have to watch on the big TV," Gaz commented as she stared ahead, captivated by the screen on the right.

"That's not me, Gaz! And he's doing it all wrong. The specimen would bleed to death within minutes that way!" Turning to her, Dib glowered, then looked back to the screen more thoughtfully. "I'm not really that callous, am I? Why would he think I would do that?"

"Why don't you ask your boyfriend," she nodded toward Zim, "whom you've been threatening to do that to for, what? Almost six years now? I would have so dumped your ass. And these are Squee's worst fears being exploited, genius."

"That's different with Zim, Gaz. He's-"

"What? Not a person?"

"Well, he's obviously not human, but he's a menace to society. And, it's not as if he's never tried to kill _me_. But, I wouldn't do _that_ to him! Not while he was alive."

"Dib-thing, you do realize that Zim still has a large stack of sketches that feature you doing _exactly_ that to me, correct?" He tried to chock down the fear that still arose whenever he contemplated being found out and dissected by the Earth scientists, but failed to suppress a small shiver that ran down his spin.

"You ... kept those?" Watching Squee writhe in pain and fear and hearing the underlying hurt in his enemy's voice, Dib suddenly felt more guilty than he ever had before, even more so than when he had found out that the wizardry store in the mall caused major environmental degradation to get its shipments of crystals and stones. The truth was that, when he was younger, he hadn't seen Zim as a sentient being. He had objectified him just like most corporations objectified their workers and the Earth. Zim had been his proof, the embodiment of his entitlement, just like the other paranormal entities that he had encountered.

Over the years, as he had grown to know the alien and to be more accepting of the continuing ignorance of his fellow humans, he had realized that paranormal science shouldn't perpetuate the exploitation of its subjects. What was the point in proving to the world that Big Foot existed if you had to cause them extinction in doing so? And then he had went out with Vayoween, expecting to discover the secrets of modern Witchcraft, and instead learned that witches were simply people, people, for the most part, who accepted the occult into their lives as a natural thing without exploiting it. Maybe aliens were people too. Maybe humans weren't the only people.

"Nooo. Why would someone as mighty as Zim keep the scraps of mental excrement produced by a pathetic hyumun such as yourself?"

"But, you just said-"

"Would you two whiny dumb asses hurry up and push the button already before I rip your tongues from your cake holes!" Gaz's eyes were once again narrowed, this time at Zim. Why couldn't those two ever shut up?

"Eh ... right." A black gloved finger darted out to press a sequence of the many buttons on the console. At least the Gaz-beast had gotten him out of being questioned by the Dib.

----------Squee's Imagination-----------

'Dib' had just pealed off the skin on Todd's chest to pin it to a wooden extension on the side of the table when everything went blank. Todd seemed to float through a swirling mass of nothing, which, while disconcerting, was a welcome change when compared with what he had just endured. Then, just as he was beginning to feel at ease in the void, a voice called his name.

"Todd?"

There it was again! A high, feminine voice.

"Todd?"

"Hello?" he asked the darkness.

"Todd! It's me!"

"Letta?" His voice reverberated throughout a small, enclosed area this time, and he realized that the world was slowly coming back into focus. Black faded to gray surroundings, which then pieced themselves together to construct a worn, stone chamber. On the walls, there were engraved shelves, some with burning candles, but most with dried out human skulls staring with hollow eyes. They were in a catacomb.

"Todd!" Letta's hand shot out to grab him, pulling them both closer together, further away from the walls, and into the middle of the path that had been cleared by a succession of about thirty people dressed in black robes. At least he didn't look like the injuries he had suffered in his last 'dream' were still afflicting him.

"Shh! Get back into position!" A middle aged woman in front of Letta wrapped thin fingers around her upper arm to pull her back into her place at the end of one line while the man in front of Todd turned around to do the same to him.

As he was roughly pulled back into the line, Todd shrugged off the man's hand, giving him a untrusting look. After he turned back around, he leaned back across the aisle to whisper. "Letta, is that really you?"

"Yeah." She leaned over some as well. "Zim hooked me up to your brain or something."

"What is this? What are we doing here? And what is _this_?" He gestured to the black robes that they were both wearing, giving the fabric of his own a quick pull for emphasis.

"I don't know-hey!" Letta rounded on the woman who had just elbowed her in the ribs.

"Pipe down, the Blessed are coming!" the woman chastised.

The Blessed? Todd gave Letta a curious look before peering to the entry of the chamber in dire. If they were still in his mind, with Shmee, then this couldn't end well. He felt himself tense up when three people in white robes, which contrasted the black of everyone else, filed in through the opening roughly six feet behind them.

From the front of the line, a single man stood on a slightly raised surface in front of the only other opening in the room-like structure. "Welcome, Blessed, ye holy fools of God, to your Holy Canonization! Step forward and take this _true_ Holy Communion, the body and the blood, so that, if the Lord Almighty ordains it, ye may live in beatified perfection for ever and ever, amen."

Each white-clad figure paused to bow at the beginning of the line before moving past all of the attendants to the front. When they reached it, the first one, a young woman with stringy black hair and pale skin who appeared to be in her very early twenties, fell to her knees. "Amanda Judith Ware, your Holiness."

Letta's hand rose involuntarily to her mouth. Amanda. She had lived with this girl last year ... until she had dropped out of kollege to join a religious cult.

"Ah, yes, Judith. Your miracles are well known among us." The man on the platform smiled down at her before looking up, to the crowd. "Brothers, sisters, let us pray, in Christ's name, for God to accept our sister, Judith, into his numbers."

As all of the members bowed their heads in preparation for communal prayer, Letta shrugged before lowering her own head. She always faked it in her own church, so it wasn't a big deal.

Todd had to muffle a yelp when the man in front of him kicked him in the shins before he finally bowed his head as well. He really didn't feel comfortable letting his guard down like this, so one eye remained cracked open to watch the service.

"Sweet Zombie Jesus, in your Undead and Holy name, we pray that you may see fit to raise this child, whom you have so graciously blessed, to her full spiritual potential. Lord, give her a mind so fine that no thought may corrupt it. Give her a heart so pure that it no longer needs to beat to sustain her. Give her a soul so perfect that it yields not to any will other than your own. Let her be as one of the Risen to usher in your Judgment, Lord, and to spread your Everlasting Word, for her name is written in the Book of Life." The Priest paused before speaking to one of the attendants. "It is time."

An elderly man up front broke free from the line to retrieve a small table to the left of the priest while another man removed a plastic container and a thermos from a cooler. A dressing clothe was placed over the table, which was then adorned with a jeweled chalice and a gold plate, both of which the priest filled with the contents of the cooler.

Todd's eyes had shot open and then closed violently at the first three words of the prayer. He had been right. This was _not_ good. Not good at all. They needed to get out of there. As the table was being decked with unspeakable substances, he looked across from him with wide, frightened eyes. "Letta! We have to go!"

"Be quiet! You can't just leave in the middle of a Canonization!" This time the middle-aged woman, who, once again, tightened her hand into a vice grip around Letta's arm, wore the face of Sister Veronica, her insanely strict sixth grade teacher from Saint Colbert's Academy.

"In the words of our Lord, 'Whoso eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, hath eternal life; and I will raise him up at the last day.'" The priest quoted the Bible as the Blessed Amanda first ate from the bowl and then drank deeply from the chalice.

As the followers looked on, Amanda began to sway drunkenly on her knees, apparently loosing coordination. At first, she used her arms to balance, but soon even this didn't stop her from tumbling to her side. Only the two, unconsenting, guests at the end of the line were bothered by this.

Taking a few careful steps back, the priest addressed his audience. "Let us now sing as hymn of praise to He who was the first to rise. Congregants, please help me usher in this grand transition with Up from the Crypt He Rose." Bowing his head respectfully, but with his eyes still open and on Amanda, he began to sing. Soon, the voices of other men and women joined his.

_Up from the crypt He rose  
Death's grip on Christ, he could not hold_

_Our sweet Lord was too clean of sin  
For the earth to take Him in _

Amanda was twitching and starting to drool onto the floor like a rabid dog, but there was still a ludicrous smile on her face. Somehow, she managed to raise her hands as if beseeching the Heavens.

Todd didn't want to look. He didn't want to be there at all. But it was like driving by a car wreck.

_To the worm, His flesh was sour  
But to us, it is nectar of the purest flower_

_We eat of His body, we drink of His blood  
And into our souls his Holy Spirit will flood_

Her arms finally fell to her sides as her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Then, her rapid breathing slowed and her chest deflated one last time, but never refilled. Her body spasmed twice before she lay completely still.

Letta tried and failed to jerk her arm free from Sister Veronica. She had to keep telling herself that this wasn't real or she was going to cry. Even though she hadn't been friends with the girl that was now lying dead on the chamber floor, she _had_ known her fairly well. And, no one close to her had died in many years ... not since her mother.

_His disciples, He taught to bring back the faithful  
The fruits of the body to be their staple._

_The Lord has risen and, with his Saints, He will rein  
The Book of Life, it bears my name _

Amanda's skin grew even more pale as the time seemed to trickle by like drops of water from a Chinese torture device. If this wasn't a demented dream, Todd would have started to think, and hope, that maybe nothing was going to happen after all. Maybe this sick cult would simply mummify her corpse and add her to the many bodies that already occupied this dank place. But, this wasn't the traumatizing world that he was used to. It was an inner world far more demented and unredeemable.

Her arm twitched. Even though he had been expecting it, he still managed a startled jump.

_Forever and ever, I shall stand by His side  
My corpse will not fall, for I am His bride_

_Blessed are those who live to be dead  
In the Kingdom of Heaven, their souls shall be fed_

Several members had fallen behind on their lines as the twitching body caught their attention. When the hymn was over at last, the priest went back to speaking. "Behold! The Lord has heard our prayers, and has answered in confirmation of the outstanding holiness of His servant! Thank you, Father!" There were several more "Thank you, Father"s and "Amen"s throughout the lines of followers.

As the body began to convulse violently, gasping in useless breaths and releasing dead moans that weren't backed up by its vocal cords, the priest turned back to the elderly man at the front of the line to his right. "Bother Peter, bring the steel cross forth."

Bowing briefly, the gray-haired man turned to a polished wooden box behind him, removing a thick, steel collar with two five foot long chains attached at either side.

When Amanda's body finally stopped convulsing, it moved with slow and unmeasured stiffness as it attempted to stand.

"Yes! Do you see? She fell to her knees before the Lord, offering herself for his purposes, abandoning that original sin of free will, and now she rises before you Saint Judith! She has died, and yet she lives in perfect Grace! Not just in soul, but in body, she is immortal, just as God promised. She is among the Faithful Dead, who will inherit the Earth!"

As the priest announced the miracle to the applause of the crowd, two members latched on to Amanda's arms, helping her body to stand. She looked around in a mockery of sentience, snapping viciously at the hand of the old man who locked the collar around her neck. After it was fastened, both of her arms were chained together in front of her chest to suggest a state of constant prayer. Then the two who had helped the body up each took a hold of one of the chains. A steel cross hung from the collar around the new saint's pallid neck.

There was barely enough room in the chamber for most of the attendants to back up against the skull-lined walls as Saint Judith was paraded down the path by the two who held her chains. The first man moved in front of her, and the second trailed behind, making sure to keep the chains taut enough so that no one less than worthy would be converted just yet. As she passed, several members reached out to touch her glorious new form in reverent awe, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she was tugging against her chains in an attempt to lunge at them.

When the zombie had made its way half way down the lines, Todd could no longer just stand there. He didn't want it anywhere near him! Breaking free of his line, he darted over to Letta, grabbing her free hand and jerking her roughly out of the woman's grip. "We're leaving!"

"Valletta Marie, you get back in this line and pay proper respect this very instant! Do you want me to get the paddle, young lady!" Sister Veronica leaped forward, regaining her hold on the girl.

"Let go!" Letta screamed as Todd attempted to pull her free, and the zombie got even closer. Leaning away from her to gain leverage, she kicked the nun in the stomach, regaining freedom and sending her former teacher toppling backwards, into the first chain holder.

Both the nun and the man went crashing to the floor, pulling the zombie down on top of them. Todd hesitated long enough to see the nun's throat ripped open before turning back to the exit, where he was shocked to see a smug looking Deacon Jasper blocking their path.

In the deacon's hands was what appeared to be a long gun with a metal bottle attached to the bottom and a hose attached to the nose. "Not so fast, you heathen brats! The service isn't over yet!"

Todd took one quick look back at the scene of tangled and mutilated bodies behind him and knew that he would much rather face the flame thrower. But apparently Letta had other ideas as she moved her arm to grab him back, pulling him in the opposite direction of Jasper and back into the frenzy of a fledgling zombie outbreak. "No, Letta! Wrong way!"

Letta only keep running, weaving in between panicking members, most of whom weren't infected yet, but posed an obstacle nevertheless. She had to ram her shoulders into a few and shove a few others out of her way, and probably into harms way, but they both reached the other side of the chamber, and the second exit, with their brains in tact.

When they exited the chamber, Todd was breathing hard and grasping Letta's hand even harder. One of the zombies had almost caught his leg as they ran by! He looked around desperately. There were corridors everywhere! "This place is like a maze! How are we going to find the way out?"

At the sound of a chorus of swelling screams from the room they were just in and a flash of light, Letta began running again. "We're just going to pick one! Most of these things have multiple exits!" Still pulling Todd behind her, Letta darted into one of the many tunnels to the right.

Because they were underground and there was no lighting in the passage, seeing was near impossible until a long blast of fire shot through the first ten feet of the tunnel, which was thankfully behind them, and a short blast of light premeditated their surroundings. It also illuminated the figure of Jasper in the entry way. "How _dare_ you infidels violate the sanctity of this sacred ceremony!"

The two sped up their efforts as light flashed through the passage in intervals. It finally came to an end, but they were presented with yet another set of tunnels.

"Shit! How deep _are_ we?" Todd's eyes widened as he realized that, since this wasn't the real world, there might not even _be_ a surface. Or the ground might shift to keep them in or simply to keep them lost. But he pushed those unhelpful thoughts away as Jasper burst out of the tunnel. "Here, this way is up!" This time he took the lead, pulling Letta into another passage. Even though he could hear the heavy breathing of the Deacon behind them, this time there was no fire to light their way.

Soon the walls of the path could no longer be felt as it opened up into a larger, but still pitch black, area. They slowed down, but keep going straight, hoping to make some type of progress.

"Todd! Can you see anything at all?" Letta whispered loudly to the boy in front of her.

"No. Wait. There's something here."

"A wall?" Damn! A dead end!

"Yeah, but something else too." Todd cautiously moved his hand along the back wall of the apparent room that they were probably cornered in, feeling the same type of shelfing from the previous chamber engraved into the wall. This time, however, there were no skulls. There was something else ... something cold and rounded. "Jars."

"Jars? What _is_ this, a pantry?"

"God, I hope not."

"Don't worry, Squee. I think they have to keep the meat refrigerated or something." At this point, she wasn't sure if they were worried about infected zombie sacrament or zombie feed ... if they even feed the zombies nonliving meat.

His hand trembled as he felt the seal at the top of the jar. He could have sworn that the jar had just moved! Well, it was a very slight movement. And it could have been caused by his hand. Still. "They're cold ... and the lids are sealed."

"It's probably just stored water for the members that live down here ... but we still need to find an exit. Why hasn't Jasper come in here yet?"

"Just give me a minute! I'm busy rechargin' my flamethrower!" Jaspers voice spewed forth into the chamber in a gleeful drawl, probably because they were trapped like rats on a sticky pad in the church basement.

There was a sudden, small glow when the deacon lit a match to see by as he exchanged the used gas container for a new one that was attached to his back in a holster, and Todd instantly backed up into Letta as the severed, undead head in the jar he had just been touching made vain biting motions at him. "Ahhh! What is this place!"

"A repository for past Saints, where they bask in the eternal and perfect Grace that God has bestowed upon them! Plus, even though they don't decay, their cells no longer repair damage, so after a while, they start falling apart if you don't preserve them." Jasper answered matter of factly as he began to screw in the second container.

Todd stared at him stupidly. "Ummm ... thanks. Anyway, we'll just be going now." He pulled Letta forward with him, attempting to shove Jasper down before he could adjust the refill for his weapon.

Just as he was upon him, Jasper dropped both his match and the bottle of gas to the ground so that he could land a hefty blow to the side of Todd's skull with the flamethrower.

When Todd fell back from the hit to his head, Letta barely managed to catch him before a huge burst of flame consumed the space just in front of her. She instantly backed up into the chamber, patting out the fire on Todd's pants with her shoe as Jasper screamed in pain. He was flailing about with his entire body on fire, which wasn't surprising since he had been standing right atop the gas and match. "Squee! Are you alright?"

"Ow. That really hurt. Why does it hurt?" Lifting a hand to rub the lump on his poor head, Todd slowly opened his eyes, but regretted it upon seeing at least fifty zombie heads, in various unnatural shades and states of intactness, staring at them by the light of the fire. "Hey, does that one look like Richard Nixon to you?"

"What? How can you even tell?" Not many of the heads looked at all like she could even guess at who they used to be, even if she had known them alive.

He shook his head. "Never mind. It must be the head trauma."

"Here, let me help you up." Letta pulled him to his feet, hoping that his legs weren't too burnt to run, even though this whole thing was starting to seem hopeless to her. What was the point of her being there if she couldn't get Todd _out_ anyway! "Zim! What the hell am I supposed to be doing! At least help us get to the surface!"

There was an irritated sigh that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once before Zim's voice sounded in both of their minds. "_Pathetic Earthinods! I can not see anything with your pit-if-ful human vision on the screen! What?" He seemed to be talking to someone else as well. _"_Alright, hold on."_

Out of nowhere, an industrial strength, heavy, metal flash light appeared in Letta's hand. "Well, at least it's something. Thanks, Zim ... I guess."

"Whoa. He can give us stuff?"

"Looks like it. Now, let's go before the infection spreads."

"That sounds like a plan." He followed her swift pace out of the chamber and around the smoldering body of Jasper until they finally reached a shaft at the highest elevation. His legs ached where the burns were, but the joy he felt when they passed through a subway station and then reached the city above seemed to overpower the pain. But that joy was not to last for long.

"Sweet Zombie Jesus!"

"Letta!"

"S-sorry, it seemed appropriate."

"That ... was a really fast infection rate." Todd made a full circle to take in all of the zombies roaming the usually busy street as a shiver ran down his spin. They were everywhere! Across the street, a large hoard of them were banging fiercely against the large, reinforced glass windows of the Taco Smell as if some part of their blood starved brains had been conditioned to feed there in life. The streets were full of wrecked cars and bodies that had been picked clean. A dead business man at the nearest street corner held a cell phone to his head, making low moans and hollow grunts into the device even though a good chunk of that side of his face, including the ear, was missing.

And then he spotted them, and the phone hit the pavement of the sidewalk, breaking into several pieces. His arms outstretched towards potential food, he took uneven, limping steps toward them.

Letta tightened her grip on the flash light that she still held as the business man let out a loud moan. That seemed to attract the attention of surrounding zombies, who were abandoning the Taco Smell or whatever else they were doing to close in on the only living beings on the block. She looked desperately back to the subway station only to see a group of black robed and burn riddled zombies emerging. They were surrounded.

Grunting irritably, Todd threw his own black robe to the ground harshly, revealing the same clothes that he had borrowed from Pepito that afternoon. They were no longer soaked in blood, but were burnt on the lower legs. The robe would only make it easier for the zombies to grab onto his person. "Why isn't there a way out of this! Zim, we could really use some help right now!"

There was a sudden wight pulling his hand down: a bag of Halloween candy. "What is _this_?"

"_Throw it at the zombies, worm-baby! They will be distracted by the sugary bits that their undead, rumbling bullies crave instead of your blood-candies!" There was a pause as someone else could barely be heard talking to Zim. "What? Zim is no idiot! It worked last year for me!" _

As Letta grabbed a handful of candy, Todd shrugged and chunked a jaw-breaker at the business man. It hit him directly in the forehead, and seemed to disorient him for a few seconds, but he keep going all the same, not giving the candy a second look.

"_Move now, Zim, or so help me-" Gaz's voice wasn't quite as loud as Zim's._

_"Unhand Zim, Pepito-worm! Uff! Fine, Dib-sister, if you think that you can do better that the Mighty Zim, then be my guest."_

_"Good. Dib, get your big head over here and tell me what these buttons do! I can't read Zim's stupid language." _

"Uh, guys, could you maybe ... go a little faster?" Todd had his back to Letta's as the zombies closed in on them. When business man got within two feet of him, he swung the bag as hard as he could, smacking him in the face and sending him tumbling to the curve along with a quarter of the candy that had been in the bag. But, he would be up again in a matter of minutes. It was kind of ridiculous to be cornered by something as slow as the walking dead, but when there were this many of them, they really were an unstoppable force.

"_Got it! Try these!" _Gaz's triumphant voice sounded in their minds as the bag of candy and flash light were replaced by automatic rifles. Ammunition belts wrapped around their waists and slung over both shoulders.

"Wow. Thanks, Gaz!" Letta aimed at the closest zombie, firing a thick stream of bullets into the crowd of zombies, wounding many, but taking down surprisingly few. Refocusing her efforts, she easily got the hang of aiming for the height of most of their heads.

The two continued to make a stand, fending off zombies on all sides, for what felt like hours. And the undead just kept coming. It must have been something about the moaning. It seemed to signal other zombies that food had been spotted. She supposed that it made sense since zombies were much more efficient hunters in hordes. Soon, they would have a wall of fallen, and completely dead, bodies on all sides. Maybe that would give them a reprieve from their continuous shooting. "Hey, Todd, do you think that _all_ of the people in the city are zombies now?"

"All the ones that haven't been eaten? Yes. Until Shmee feels like inserting some live ones for whatever his purposes are."

"Oh, yeah." She had almost forgotten that there really were no people. No zombies. Only a sick game between herself, Todd, and a stuffed bear. The word 'alien' flashed in her mind, but that was too much for right now.

Suddenly there was a commotion amongst the surrounding zombies, which were being thrown and shoved out of someone's way. "Move, bub! This ain't no free-for-all! If there's live meat in there, it's mine!"

Todd and Letta shared a panic-stricken look as the new comer, a large, muscular man in a tight yellow and blue spandex costume, parted the crowd with long blades that protruded from the knuckles of his hands to come face to face with them. When he did they could see that his lips and most of the connecting flesh had deteriorated, revealing teeth that seemed far too long without their gums to hide the roots. Oh, yes, this man, this legend, was dead. Undead.

After he had absorbed this knowledge in a very brief pause, Todd opened fire, blasting into the Marvel hero's head.

The thing that was once Wolverine just laughed. "Sorry, kid, Adamantium plating. And that don't hurt neither." He pointed to his masked skull. "Looks like you're outta luck."

"B-but," Todd faltered, "the other zombies can't talk! They can barely even think!"

"Yeah, well, I ain't no doctor, but I guess the plague affected us mutants a little different, now didn't it?" He took a step closer, raising his right claw. "Too bad for you."

Just as the mutant zombie brought down his bladed hand, a silver streak swooped down from overhead, scooping the two living humans up before they could be eaten alive and speeding away so fast that neither passenger had time to think about what was happening until they were dropped a short distance onto a high roof.

Looking up, they saw a slender, silver being standing agilely atop a surf board that matched his skin.

He looked down at them without much expression as he made his usual announcement. "You're world has been surveyed, and though it supports only meager life, it will be sufficient for the needs of the great Galactus. He has been summoned and will arrive very soon to convert this world into elemental energy for his sustenance. This will mean your deaths, but you must understand that it is an honor to be devoured by Galactus."

Letta cocked an eyebrow. "Then ... why did you just save us down there? Not that I'm complaining."

"I have seen what those abominations have done to this world. All remaining life should _long_ for these horrors to end! But, those uninfected deserve an honorable, painless death, such as that offered by the Destroyer of Worlds. You should be safe here for now. Do not worry. Your time, and _theirs_," he gestured to the seething city, "is short. Prepare for the end." And with that he was gone, once again a silver streak against the darkening sky.

For a few good seconds, Todd was at a complete loss as to how to feel about this newest revelation. And then it came to him. "What the hell _is_ this, a cross-over! I'm starting to be really disappointed in my imagination here. Do you hear that, Shmee? This plot sucks!"

"Uh, actually, Squee, I think that a lot of this is mine."

"What?"

"Yeah. I'm the one who told you about the Resurrectionists, and I knew some of those people back there. Remember my roommate that I told you about? Amanda? And Sister Veronica and, of course, we both know Jasper."

"Well, what about the super heroes?"

"They're not heroes anymore. They're Marvel Zombies." At his blank, unimpressed look, she continued, "It's a comic about-"

"About the Marvel heroes becoming zombies? That's great. Remind me to write whoever thought that up a fan letter after this." Dropping the sarcasm and moving to the edge of the building, Todd surveyed the damaged and zombie infested city below. The streets over which they now stood weren't crowded with a dense pack of the undead like the one they had surfaced on had become, but there were still several of them moving around. "Is Galactus really going to come?" At this point, that didn't sound too bad. Being converted to energy and absorbed had to be better than being eaten by zombies ... or worse, becoming one.

"Yeah. The mutant zombies strike him down with the power that they get from eating the Silver Surfer and then leave the Earth to find more food after they feed on him." Letta's voice was low and careful as she said this. After all, she was basically saying that they were as royally screwed as Anne Boleyn. "But maybe Wolverine will forget about us."

"What?" He turned around to face her. "They can't eat the Silver Surfer! His skin is designed for the vacuum of space, for stars and black holes. It's impervious! And Galactus is a primordial space god, a cosmic force. How can zombies _eat_ a cosmic force? The fleshy bits are just for show!"

"I don't know, Todd! I'm only telling you how the story goes. And you're a real nerd, ya know that?"

"Well, the story is stupid! And this dream-thing is stupid! And of course I know that! Everyone knows that! That's why most people hate me." When he turned again, with a huff, to look back down at the streets, what he saw had him piping down immediately. A couple of the zombies below were looking up the side of the building as if they could hear them shouting. "That and my loud mouth. We're going to have to be quiet," he whispered as he slide down below the railing to sit, out of possible sight of any spectators on the ground.

Letta followed his lead by sinking to the flat, concrete roof as well, pulling her riffle to her side as they lapsed into an uneasy silence. After a while, when nothing new seemed to be happening, she saw Todd's eyes close.

"Dear God ... if there is a God ... help us, please." At first, not surprisingly, nothing changed, but when she lay on her back on the hard surface, Letta noticed a small, dark dot against the gray sky. She dismissed it instantly as her imagination, but after a few more minutes, and several enlargements of the spot as it grew closer and revealed itself to, in fact, be several people-shaped dots, she realized that being in a dream world meant that imagination was reality. "Todd. Psst! Todd, wake up!"

His eyes shot open at her hushed words. He hadn't really been asleep exactly anyway. It was more like a stress induced attempt at a black-out. And a mostly failed one at that. Maybe if he could stop thinking, nothing else would happen. "What? What is it?"

As she pointed up at the ever descending figures, her lack of explanation was interrupted by an eerily resonating sound of trumpets blowing from all four directions.

Todd immediately sat up. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!"

"That doesn't sound like nothing." He finally looked up, squinting at what she had been pointing at. "It doesn't look like nothing either. What is that?"

"Well ... I sorta-I didn't think anything would really happen!" Looking back to the sky, she could see that the forms were definitely people ... people in flowing white robes.

"You didn't think _what_ would really happen exactly?" Todd asked wearily as he continued to watch the white-clothed people as they finally landed on an especially tall building across the street. At the moment he wasn't feeling particularly trusting of robe-clad people. Or any people, even if they had just descended from above. Some mutates could fly after all. Bending down quickly, he retrieved his riffle to spy upon the other building through the scope.

"You probably don't want to know." Even so, he was about to find out. Standing up with her own gun, Letta moved to the side of the building to do the same. She zoomed in to see a closer version of the small, white-robed group. One man, who stood tall in the middle of the group, parted a long veil of brown hair to the sides of his cadaverous, sallow face to look forward in their direction.

"Letta, this is my imagination, and it is dangerous! Do you think I want to die like this?"

"I'm sorry, Todd, but how was I supposed to know this would happen?"

"Because you obviously have some major issues in this area!" He made a broad sweeping motion with his hand to indicate the entire dreamscape. "Shit!" He quickly dropped back to the ground, pulling Letta with him when Zombie Jesus outstretched his almost skeletal hand in their direction.

"Todd, this is bad! This is so bad!"

Leaning forward, he took her by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him as he spoke firmly. "Listen to me, Letta. Are you listening? This is impossible. All of this. Dead bodies can't move. Without oxygen being supplied to the cells of moving muscles, lactic acid build up causes rigor mortus. They would be paralyzed. Do you understand?" Maybe if they could just think rationally, the logical contradictions would go away.

Letta shook her head violently, the friction making tears run more to the side of her head. " Todd, I don't know what the hell you're talking about! Saint Colbert's Academy only taught Christian science!"

"Then how did you pass biology last year!"

"One of my friends had the tests from the year before." Her emerald eyes grew large in fright as she saw four of the white robed zombies from the other building moving across the sky in a slow motion toward them over Todd's shoulder. "They're coming!"

Todd only spared a quick look back himself before pulling Letta to her feet and making a dash for the other side of the building. He gave the pad-locked door that lead into the building an unsure look. There was no way that going inside could be a good idea. There were probably zombies all throughout the building. And the fire escape only lead to the streets where more of them lurked in the shadows. This couldn't end well. "Zim! Take her out!"

"No! No, wait!" She dug blue, painted nails into Todd's shoulder as she pushed him to the side, stepping in front of him. The white-robed figures had landed on the ledge, and she couldn't take her eyes off of the one on the far left.

Stepping ahead of the others, the figure pulled back the hood of her robe, revealing long, curly brown hair around an overly thin, overly pale face with dull blue eyes over dark bags of bruised skin.

As his hand shot out to grab the one leaving his shoulder, Todd's voice came out in a sad, strangled plea. "Letta, no."

"M-mom?"

The figure slowly approached, holding out her arms as if entreating a hug.

"Let me go, Todd." She tried to pull free, but only ended up jerking Todd around by the hand as his gripe tightened. Dropping her gun to the ground, she attempted to dislodge his hand with her free one. "I have to go."

"No. That's not your mom." Jerking their hands back in return, he pulled Letta back farther.

"But it is! That's just how she looked when ... when she ..."

"When she _died_, Letta! Think about what you're saying! This isn't real." He could feel tears starting to sting his dry eyes to match Letta's as pity fought against fear and anger.

"You don't know that!"

"Yes, I do!" This time he swung her around fast, letting go so that she fell to the concert behind him as he took aim with the gun he still held. He closed his eyes as his finger pulled the tiger, releasing a round of bullets into the head and chest of the closest zombie, which happened to resemble Letta's mother.

"You shot her!" Letta climbed quickly to her feet, ignoring the scraps on her knees in favor of screaming at him. "You _shot_ my mother!"

"No I didn't! She's not-she's still coming! Why isn't she dead? I mean ... you know what I mean!"

"I don't know, Todd, why don't you shoot her again and find out!" When more bullets blasted through that familiar woman, Letta charged Todd, knocking him to the roof. "Oh my God, I was being sarcastic, you asshole! Leave her alone! Didn't you get enough of a kick out of killing your _own_ parents?"

Todd shoved her off roughly, swiftly taking the gun back into his hands. "Letta, she's going to _kill_ us! And she is _not_ your mother! This is not real!"

"But-"

"No! It isn't! It's a delusion based on our fears, our weakness, your pain. I mean, look at that Jesus!" He pointed a slightly trembling finger at the traditional western, though zombified, rendition of one of the world's most popular messianic dying gods that was now landing on the ledge, quickly returning his eyes to Letta. "The historical Jesus would have looked nothing like that!"

"Todd."

"And the nail wounds would have been in the wrists. You can't suspend a human body with nails through the palms."

"... how do you know that?" She tore her gaze away from Zombie Jesus to give Todd a rather disturbed look.

"Because my neighbor is a homicidal maniac. Anyway, it's just a popular image in your mind."

Ug. Not the 'Scary Neighbor Man' thing again. He had some nerve lecturing her about delusions, but she shook this thought from her head as she looked back a the zombie. "Todd!"

"I know, they're still coming." But he didn't know what to do about it if he couldn't take them down, and he and Letta had no where to go. "You need to get out."

"Todd, he's changing!"

"What?" Looking beyond 'Letta's mom' and past the other three who were slowly approaching as well, he saw that Zombie Jesus had indeed changed to match that of a typical first century Palestinian ... well, a typical first century Palestinian zombie anyway. He was now about Zim's height with darker, olive skin. His hair was also darker, short and curly. The beard was gone, which in this instance made him look even worse as more necrotic flesh was exposed.

"He ... he looks different now. Mideastern. And the zombies ... in the comic Colonel America lost the top of his head and brain, but he didn't ... umm ... die or whatever until the whole brain was pulled out. I think the rules ... the rules are changing."

"Yeah. _We're_ changing them." The words were said aloud, but they were really directed more at himself than Letta. If they could change things, then why couldn't biology stop the zombies before? Maybe Shmee was just feeling out whatever he though would possibly scare them more. Or maybe he just didn't care about the little details of the nightmare as long as the effect was achieved. Or maybe ...

"We're changing them. So, she's not ..." Her chest convulsed with a sob before she could stifle it. This wasn't her mother. It really, really wasn't. Her mother was long dead and gone. She would never see her again. She was simultaneously relieved and crushed by this truth.

"No. She's not." Todd quickly swiped Letta's gun from the roof, thrusting it back into her arms as they backed up even farther. "I have an idea. Help me with these broads."

"What broads?" She hadn't noticed any broads before, but sure enough, when Letta turned around there was a pile of them laying against the back ledge.

"These. We can get to the other building if we can lay them across both ledges!" Todd smirked slightly as they both lifted one broad at a time to do as he had said. So they really _could_ change conditions to their benefit. But that power seemed to have serious limits. If they made it to the other roof, they could possibly take refuge in the green house there, but after that he had no idea how they were going to get out of this.

The zombies were still coming for them, and, in fact, almost upon them, when they finished moving three of the broads into place. Wiping nervous sweat from her brow, Letta turned around while Todd made sure the boards were sturdy, only to find that the zombie of her mother was mere feet from her position. Her hand instantly, blindly, found his shoulder, pulling roughly on his shirt. "Todd."

"Yeah?" As soon as he turned around to answer, the sight of the dead woman, with her arms still outstretched, had him backing up as far as he could against the ledge of the building, his slight fear of heights disregarded. Slowly, he leaned down to take hold of the nose of his gun. "Letta, get on the boards."

Taking another wobbly step forward, the zombie sucked in some air to help produce a sound that was too deep and too dry to actually be considered a word, but might have been one all the same. "Daaw-taa-eer."

That had Letta's careful climb onto the make-shift bridge coming to a quick stop as she turned around again, with one leg already on the boards and the other still on the concrete of the roof. "She knows me."

"Letta, go! It's not real, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Taking in a deep, resolute breath, she climbed the rest of the way onto the boards, trying to suppress the innate fear of being so high on something so flimsy. She had to try to keep her weight evenly distributed amongst the three boards as she took sideways steps above a dark alley.

When she started moving away again, the dead woman let out a feral, inhuman growl, lunging forward with long, dirty nails brandished before her.

Todd quickly turned his gun around, jabbing it out to clock the zombie in the forehead as soon as she was close enough. She fell to the ground with a mildly confused look before climbing to her feet and coming at him once again. This time he hit her hard, at an angle to knock her to the side before landing a powerful kick to her middle, sending her toppling off the building, moaning all the way down, not in fear, but in the familiar agitation of unfed corpse.

Then the other zombies were still advancing on him, so he quickly climbed onto the boards himself, shuffling across with only a small fear of falling because, really, that wasn't the worst thing that could happen in this world. By the time Letta had reached the other side, he had caught up with her. He leaped from the boards, and they ran to the large green house that rested atop the new building.

Letta's body slammed into the side of the green house with frantic momentum before her hand went for the doorknob, only to be covered and held by Todd's. "What now?"

"Inside the green house ... there is a large, steel desk, big enough for both of us to hide under."

"How do you know that?"

"I ... I can see it through a crack here." He pointed to the latch of the door, which he actually couldn't see through at all. But Letta didn't need to know that. He needed her to believe that because he didn't trust his own belief alone. Faith was never something he was great at, never something he had really needed. All of the preternatural things seemed to seek him out, making his belief motivated by prof and experience, instead of the other way around.

"Okay ... so can we go in now! They're still coming, you know!" As soon as his hand left hers, she threw the door open, running across the rows of plants to the steel desk near the back that Todd had spoken of, though she didn't think it would offer much protection from the undead.

"Hide under the desk." As Letta crawled under, Todd pointed his gun toward the roof, opening fire in a sequence of crucial patterns. Luckily, no glass actually fell yet. As the door opened once again, he too crawled under the desk, leaning down to peak through the space between the desk and the floor, watching as the robed figures filed into the green house.

The zombies moved surprisingly fast throughout the glass enclosure, knocking over many a plant in their search for the living flesh that they seemed to sense inside. All the while, the Zombie Jesus stood in the very center of the green house, as if attempting some air of regality in his undead state, until finally, he dropped to all fours, crawling ever closer to them like some hunting dog, seeming to _smell_ the two humans under the desk through his rotting nasal passages.

Letta's nails dug roughly into Todd's arm as Zombie Jesus let out a multi-voiced wail only a few feet from their position, drawing the other undead in as well. She felt his arm lock into place around her just as the decaying savior dove at them, knocking the desk over. She could hear both herself and Todd scream loudly, though she had no conscious control over it, as Todd pulled them both back into the overturned desk. The desk was now open on the front, but still covered all other sides, including the top, so they were relatively safe when the glass making up the roof of the green house fell in large sections, slicing into the Holy Dead.

Todd closed his eyes a second too late as a substantial, triangular piece of glass cut through the chest of Zombie Jesus, ripping his right upper shoulder, neck, and head from the rest of his body, and sending it all toppling to the floor in a twitching, still-not-fully-dead heap. He only heard the rest of the glass fall as he raised his free hand to his eye, rubbing it until tears were forced out in vain hopes of cleaning it before it was too late. Wiping away one of the tears, he raised his finger to have a look at it as all of the noise finally came to an end. Blood. Undead blood.

"Todd, we did it!" Letta hugged him tightly before taking careful steps out from under the desk and around the somewhat dangerous remains of Zombie Jesus. "They're all down! Come on, I think all of the glass has fallen out by now."

Standing unsurely, Todd followed her lead, avoiding the body parts that littered the ground. His heart was already beating too fast, though that could just be hypochondriacal. His hand shot to his heart as it suddenly felt like it might have skipped a beat, and his breathing speed up. His throat felt too dry, and he was quickly becoming unexplainably dizzy. He swayed on his feet, almost falling into the clutches of one of the undead mouths. "Letta," he paused a beat to force mental focus, "You need to shoot me, and then you need to get out of my mind."

"Don't be stupid, Squee, we just beat them!"

"Beat 'em, did ya?"

Quickly looking away from Todd, Letta's eyes landed on a familiar figure. Wolverine was back, though he was now missing an arm from his fight with the Silver Surfer, and he had brought friends.

The ex-hero laughed yet again. "Dittin' think that we'd hear all that glass shatterin' up here, did ya? Well, this time there ain't no silver freak on a souped up skate board to save you. Right, boys?"

There were several nods from other mangled Marvel zombies that could now fly thanks to the power cosmic that they had absorbed from eating said 'silver freak'.

"Oh, shit, shit, shit. They're everywhere." She backed up closer to Todd, who shoved his gun firmly into her hands. She aimed at the ex-heroes, though she knew that shooting them would do little good.

Shaking his head, and instantly regretting it as a wave of nausea overtook him, Todd grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him instead of the mutant zombies. "Letta, you have to shoot me!"

"I can't!"

"You have to! _Please!_"

Her eyes widened in disgusted horror as she finally understood exactly _why_ she had to shoot him. He was very pale, almost as pale as Amanda when she had become a Saint. His pupils were dilated and his body was trembling. It was amazing that he was even managing to stand like that. More tears rolled down her eyes.

As her finger closed in on the trigger of her gun, Todd took in a deep breath and closed his eyes in preparation for the impact. A few seconds later, he heard the gun fire off several bullets, and fought an instinct to drive to the concrete at his feet. But he shouldn't have had that long. Swallowing down a wave of dread, he forced his eyes open again to see the bullets flying through the air at an increasingly slower speed. The marvel zombies attacked in slow motion as Letta disappeared into thin air. Before the panic could set in, he noticed that they were disappearing too: the zombies, the bullets, the city. It was all blurring and fading as it approached him until there was only darkness again.

* * *

END CHAPTER!

Notes:

-chapter title is one of the lryics from Disturbia by Rihanna because that song is a very good discription of the kind mindset it invokes.

-the " elaborate happy ending" that Zim made up about the flying space pigs comes from the official IZ comic that resolves the series. That comic can be found at RwaM & GIR: http : //www . Roomwithamoose . com/pictures_misc . php

-"give her a mind so fine that no thought may corrupt it." is a paraphrase of "He had a mind so fine that no idea could violate it." by T.S. Eliot (about Henry James).

-The Resurrectionist hymn " Up from the Crypt He Rose" is written by me, and was slightly inspired by "Low in the Grave He Lay" by Robert Lowry.

_-_"Whoso eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, hath eternal life; and I will raise him up at the last day." - John 6:54

-"Sweet Zombie Jesus!" is a quote from Futurama, as is the reference to Richard Nixon (his head is preserved in a jar, but he isn't undead in the series).

-I don't own Marvel Zombies. It is copyright Marvel Characters, INC, written by Robert Kirkman, and illustrated by Sean Phillips.

- "This is my imagination, and it is dangerous! Do you think I want to die like this?" is a paraphrase of a quote by Delia from the moive Beetle Juice.

- Saint Colbert's Academy was founded twenty years after the death of Saint Stephen T. Colbert (of the Roman Catholic, not of the Resurrectionist Church). It is based on his teaching through both his renowned political commentary, 'The Colbert Report', and his award winning book, 'I Am American (And So Can You!)'.

-The Christian Science reference comes from a girl I meet in Bio 101. She was failing the class because she had no real science education. Her homeschooling had consisted of what she called "Christen science". Very sad.

-This should be obvious, but the Resurrectionists are a satirical religious group meant to express problems in religion by blowing them out of proportion. They are not meant to represent real-life groups. Also, Zombie Jesus is not supposed to be the real, historical Jesus.


	14. Chapter 14

**Sublime Awakenings Chapter Fourteen: Sublime Awakenings**

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* * *

**Warnings: Violence, gore, psychological torture, literary and theological/mythological references. My Beta thinks that this ch is rated M, so I am moving the whole Fic into the M category. So, you won't see it in the normal fic list on ffnet unless you look in "all" or "mature". Chapter title isn't a mistake; the name of the fic is the name of this chapter.

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"Todd, look out!" Letta's voice rang out in a shrill scream inside the simulation chamber as her eyes snapped open to take in tZim's black, gloved hand as it struck her sharply across the face.

"Silence! Keep it together soldier! The mission's not over yet!" Humans were such frail creatures. Defeated by zombies. Pff. When Zim had gone up against mall security and that stoopid, little stink-man's creations, they had been a disgusting, but minor inconvenience at worst!

Letta looked up into his lavender eyes in a daze. "What? Soldier? Am I really awake?" The confusion suddenly left her voice to be replaced with urgency when she remembered why she had woken up screaming. "What happened to Squee?"

"Unfortunately, yes, you are awake. The Squeaky-child seems to be shifting nightmare worlds again. We're going to need to plug you back in, in order to maintain contact."

"What? Again! But this doesn't even seem to be helping! Isn't there something else you can do to get that ... _thing_ out of him?"

"Yes, actually. I could remove the aniphasic life-form with a strong electromagnetic barrier, but since you-_we_ humans have a bioelectric nervous system, it would probably extinguish his pitiful life." Which was what he would end up doing if this matter wasn't resolved in due course. Bitters had said that she would _prefer_ the Casil kid in addition to the Veelob, right? Or maybe he could just turn them both in like this?

"There's nothing else?"

"The life-form's behavior is ... erratic. I do not understand it's motivation, much less how to coax it out."

"But-"

"No more questions! Just sit back and relax, dirt-child. We will reinsert you momentarily." Once the worm-baby had calmed down enough, he turned on the heels of his boots, which made little squeaky noises as he marched from the projection chamber.

Dib's head turned away from the darkened screen at the sound of Zim entering the control room. "Zim, are you sure we're doing the right thing? What happens if she dies in there?"

Contact-covered eyes narrowed at the Dib in irritation as Zim joined the others at the controls. "Stop questioning Zim! I don't know, okay? Exactly how many humans do you think I have run through the simulator, Dib?"

"Oh, great! More untested equipment! Why am I not surprised?"

"It is _not_ untested!" A three-clawed hand fisted in Dib's blue shirt so that Zim could pull him all those precious inches to his level before whispering hotly into his ear. "This technology is used on Irkens in training as a matter of course! But if a fatal error occurs, the Pak will save the individual's data up until the error and apply any needed treatment for shock. Without the Pak, who knows what would happen to an Earthinoid? Now stop asking stupid questions that Zim cannot answer in front of other humans!" Stoopid, questiony Dib-thing and his Earthy judgments! If Zim had said, 'Why, yes, stink-beast, it has been tested thoroughly with your kind,' the response would have been just as bad. Sometimes there was just no winning with the Dib. His illogical hyumaness prevented it.

Pepito exchanged an exacerbated look with Gaz at Zim's loud whispering, half of which they could actually make out. Did he really still think that they didn't know? So idiocy apparently wasn't limited to the Earth. At least Todd couldn't die with the key around his neck. He looked back to the screen as the darkness turned to fuzz, which was slowly finding shape. If this wasn't resolved soon, he was taking him back to his house to see if the powers of Hell could do anything about it.

"Fine, Zim!" Dib grabbed his hand, jerking it free from his shirt so that he could stand up straight, though not letting it go just yet. "Just keep right on pretending while people's lives are in danger! Pretend that you're human, pretend that no one else knows, just like _they_ pretend they don't know. Pretend that I'm not the only one who even _cares_! It _is_ what you're good at!"

"Oh, dear Tallest, not this again! Keep it up, Dib-stink, and I'm getting you a muzzle. A muzzle of doom!"

Arms crossed over his chest, Pepito shook his head in dismay. Personally, he thought they both needed a muzzle. Maybe after this was all over he would curse them with laryngitis. That would be fun. "Could you please stop saying the word 'doom' so much? It's kind of tried." But maybe that was just him. It was, after all, one of his father's favorite words. Over the years it had not only lost most of its bite, but also become rather annoying.

"Nonsense! 'doom' is an amazing word ... especially when it's the _impending_ kind." The Irken chuckled as Dib glared and the other two humans looked at each other blankly. So unknowing. So unprepared.

Gaz rolled her eyes as her brother and his alien boyfriend continued to flirt in the most annoying way ever: the semi-secretive way that forced other, unwilling, people to be involved, the whole planet sometimes. It was like a type of exhibitionism. Their stupid fetish-game was out in the open for anyone to see, but few to actually understand ... and that was probably the thrill of it. "Would you two sickos get a room or something?"

"What are you talking about, Gaz?" Dib looked to her with wide, unbelieving eyes.

"A room? What would we do in this ... room of which you speak? Zim already has plenty of rooms!"

Pepito gave them both an appraising look, catching onto Gaz's logic. "Well, you are holding hands."

"No!" The denial left Zim's thin, green lips before he and the Dib could actually pull their hands away from each other. "No, we're not!"

"Totally not." Dib stuffed both of his hands into the pockets of his trench coat to make sure that they stayed safely away from Zim's. What was _wrong_ with them lately?

"Whatever. Look, he's back." Gaz nodded toward the screen, where Squee was now visible again, though there wasn't much to look at besides him this time. Everything was very dark, though there seemed to be some kind of ground. "I'm putting Letta back in." Nimble fingers returned to the control panel to type in the code that Zim had given her earlier.

All the playfulness left Dib as he too took in the scene on the screen, remembering the lives at risk. "Be careful, Gaz. As soon as she's in peril, pull her out." All he got in return was a grunt, which was actually the most comforting reply she could have given him. It was like when she was in the heat of battle on her Game Slave. He gave her a quick smile before turning back, also comforted by the gothic apparel that she was wearing tonight. If Gaz was on the task, there was no way they could lose. When other people failed, she would still triumph through shear will, even against insurmountable barriers, with as little as a well positioned kick.

----------Squee's Imagination-----------

Todd looked around in confusion at the lack of landscape that now occupied his mind. There was no horizon, no other objects that he could see. There was no moon, no stars. Even calling this state 'night' was making an unfounded assumption. On the ground there was no grass, no rocks, nothing except some basic soil-like substance. It was almost black, though that could have been the lack of light, and kind of moist and sticky. His shoes seeped into it slowly, but steadily, a centimeter at a time. But there was no where else to stand, no truly solid ground. All he could do was keep stepping out of it, then back into it to make sure he didn't sink in the stuff.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of light and color. Turning his head to his left, he saw it again, full on. It was like a fake computer game effect indicating that another player was entering the game. The next time, Letta's figure appeared completely without flashing back out.

"H-hi, Squee." She looked around uncertainly at the dark terrain, wondering what possible situation they would be subjected to this time.

"Letta! What are you doing back in here!"

"They need me to talk to you. Stop freaking out, okay? I can't take much more stress." And she wasn't the even the one with an anxiety disorder. "What is this place?"

"I don't know ... it's nothing ... nowhere. I really don't know. What kind of a place has no visible limits, but no stars? Do you think it could be a cave ... a really big cave?"

"No idea. Why is the ground so squishy?" Letta stamped one foot against the surface hard, discovering that it seemed to become more solid when pressure was applied. "Hey, check this out."

Todd looked down at the stomping foot, wondering how he could even see in such a place. Crouching down, he slowly allowed his fingers to slip halfway into the substance before quickly curling them to lift some of the dark material, which he then rolled into a ball in his hands. "It's a dilatant colloid." When he received a questioning look, he continued almost absentmindedly to move the thing between his hands as he stood up. "A mixture of solid particles evenly dispersed throughout another substance ... like custard."

"Custard?'

"Um-hum. Fast movement or hard pressure makes it a solid, and slow movement or gentle pressure makes it a liquid. See?" Opening his hands, he allowed the substance to return to the liquid state, watching as it spilled onto the ground, at first pattering like rain and then sinking back in as the force behind the droplets dissipated.

"Squee?'

"Yeah?"

"You're really weird."

"... I know. But you asked."

Letta bit her lip, deciding not to point out that that hadn't really been what her question had meant. She had known Todd long enough to know that one of the ways he dealt with stress or fear was objective analysis. It usually helped to keep his mind off of the more practical, dangerous aspects of whatever he was afraid of. At least that's what he claimed. But this was the boy who refused to drink tap water on the grounds that tiny crustaceans that harbored diseases were carried by the city's water system.

"L-letta." Todd's hand began to tremble as he examined it. Blood. It was covered in blood.

"Shit! Todd, are you alright?" Seeing the dark ruby sheen on light peach skin, she ran the short distance to his side, lifting the hand closer to her face to get a good look. "I don't see any cuts."

Slowly, with mounting nervousness, he looked away from his hand and to Letta. "It's not my blood."

"Then whose-" She stopped mid-sentence, following Todd's eyes to the ground. "No. No way."

"Oh, God ...." His voice came out barely above a whisper. It was all blood. Some kind of monstrous blood, like the kind that had attacked him in his room. And it was moving, rippling, pulsing faster and faster.

Letta gripped his wrist even tighter as congealed waves pressed against the bottom of their shoes. "W-what's happening now?"

"We've got to move!"

"Move where?"

"I don't know." He searched the endless darkness fruitlessly. "Somewhere, anywhere. I think this is the center of the waves." Returning the grip on her hand, Todd pulled her behind as he ran in a random direction. It was hard to tell distance without any surrounding features, so he just keep running until the waves had calmed down to a low trembling that matched his body. Then they just stood there, watching the ground jiggle like gelatin; something that he figured Zim was probably getting much more of a kick out of than they were.

Even though Todd's hand was covered in some mysterious type of blood, Letta held it tightly in her own as she stood as close as she could to the younger boy, just as much from her own fear as from a wish to protect and comfort him. "What i-is that?"

"I ... I think something's under there. Or it's alive." He was forced to widen his stance to remain steady as the vibrations got faster and stronger and the 'land' started to curve upwards toward the place where they had been standing not long ago. But then they both fell to the ground anyway when the ground fractured ahead of them as something large and white rose above it. Whatever it was kept rising until it was several stories high. When it, and the ground, finally stilled, he stood back up, once again pulling Letta with him.

"Is that ... a building?" She was practically hugging him now, but she couldn't help it. If it was a building, it was like none she had ever seen. She couldn't make out anything on it that she could clearly call walls, windows or even a roof. The whole thing was too rounded, the openings in the surface too wide, its enclosure too uneven.

"Yes ... and no." It looked more like a human coral reef. It was made of a white, bony material, which was smooth in some places like it had been worn by an ocean of blood. In others, there were actually skeletal remains stuck together, or merged with the smooth surface, making up parts of the structure.

This was too familiar. This wasn't supposed to happen. He found himself hugging Letta back when torrents of black blood spilled from the gaping spaces on all of the uneven and disjointed levels of the thing. The blood had probably just hardened when the structure had moved, but it looked to him as if the 'building' was throwing up. When the spilled blood hit the ground, not surprisingly, it thudded loudly, broke into smaller segments and bounced a few times before stilling.

"T-todd ... it's ... it's still moving." She wanted to look away, to bury her face in Todd's shoulder like she had done with Dib in the control room, but she couldn't. The fear had frozen her in place, watching the fallen blood as it became just liquid enough to reform itself into humanoid shapes that seemed to grow unnaturally from pools of blood on the ground. "Holy Hell! Where did you read about this!"

"I didn't." If he had it wouldn't have been as bad, not nearly as bad. "I dreamed about it. Or something like it."

"You _dreamed_ it? You know, I think that you really might be crazy."

"I prefer to think of it as 'problems in living'."

"That's a big problem. A really big one." And it was getting bigger. The dark crimson, human-shaped creatures had grown more distinct. They seemed to have facial features underneath a thin layer of gel that covered, as well as made up, their bodies. Under that gel, solid black eyes with no pupils searched their surroundings as their arms grew into long, matching, black knives, making them lose some balance as they stumbled around the front of the bone structure.

Todd grimaced at the sight. It was almost as pitiful as it was scary. He let out a gasp when he felt something slimy touch his leg, looking down to see that more of the same red vines were now growing from the bloody ground like some sick, carnivorous alien plant. And one of them was making its way up his leg under his pants.

"Ack!" He quickly pulled away from Letta in a mad attempt to get it off of his skin, nearly falling onto the ground where even more of the things were lurking. When it finally came loose, he pulled the pants leg up to examine his leg, making sure that none of it remained. Once certain that he was free of it, he stood back up, breathing heavily. "It's everywhere. We're going to have to go in there."

Now stamping her feet faster and higher than before to avoid the vines, Letta looked up from the ground to give him a worried gaze. "Todd, I don't know. Whatever is in there might be worse than this. I mean, these plant things aren't so bad. And it seems kind of like a trap, don't you think?"

"These things are worse than they seem." He stopped his explanation there, not wanting to explain how the victim's consciousness was never allowed to die or move on, how the screams lived in the blood, how much the pain of living and dying was amplified. "It probably is a trap, but I don't know what else I can do. You, though, you shouldn't be here. You should get out."

"But then you would be alone with ... _this_." She looked around her as tears blurred her vision a bit. What would happen to Todd if they just left him alone with the bear? Would it ever leave him or would it just continue to torture him forever? "I'm not giving up unless I have to." And then she would have to make Zim get Shmee out any way he could because this was too much. Death had to be better than this.

As much as he wanted to argue, to insist that she go, Todd just nodded his head weakly, thankfully. Truthfully, he was terrified to be alone there, with only himself, Shmee and his nightmares. He knew that if this went on long enough, he would eventually break, give in to the madness. There would be nothing left of him but these horrors. "Zim, Gaz? We need some weapons and some flash lights."

"_Finally. Here, try some laser-edged machetes."_

Gaz's voice was serious, but also excited: the exact opposite of her usual apathetic gloom. Todd figured that this must be what she was like at gaming events. When a pair of flash lights and two machetes blinked into the game much the way Letta had earlier, he stepped up to take one of each before the blinking stopped and the items fell to the ground as Letta did the same by his side. "Okay. We're going to have to keep moving fast enough not to sink or let the vines grab us. You ready?"

Letta shook her head, but didn't say that there was no way she could ever be ready for something like that and that running _toward_ that structure went against every instinct in her being. "On three?"

A forced, but firm nod and Todd took a deep breath, beginning to walk in the direction of the 'building'. "One."

Matching his pace, Letta tucked the flash light, which was more compact this time, into her pocket before reaching out to take his hand again. She still wasn't sure if it was for his reassurance or her own. "Two."

Todd quickly copied her move, putting his own light in his pocket and taking the trembling hand into his own. "As soon as you need to, get out. I'll be okay." Her hand tightened on his, and he returned the squeeze once more before letting go. "Three. Go!"

"_You two, spread out! Duck under the knives when those things make a circle and cut off their arms! They'll fall over!" _

Obeying Gaz's command without much thought, which was easy when her brain felt so numb, Letta went to the far right while Todd went to the left. The red creatures appeared to notice them when they got within a few yards of their wandering, turning their too-round heads in their directions as their large, black eyes tried to zero in. Instead of coming straight for them, they turned in imperfect circles, dragging the long knives, which occasionally scraped across the ground, cutting shallow lines of blood on each side of their bodies.

Once up close, she could see that the creatures were all about eight feet tall. They looked a bit like humans, turned to gelatin and stretched. Underneath probably an inch of the blood-gel, they seemed to be made of the same red sinews that grew up from the ground, though those vines weren't growing this close to the structure, probably because the blades would continuously cut them apart.

As the creatures advanced in their strange manner, Todd waited until the nearest was just close enough, and just at the right angle, so that he could do as Gaz said, ducking under the long knife. When he came out from under the arm on the other side, the creature swung its second knife higher and faster, barely missing him as he jumped out of the way. He rolled on his side, getting to his feet as quickly as possible in order to duck under another knife before he was cut.

This time, right after the first knife passed, he held the laser machete up with both hands, surprising himself at how easy it was to cut through the thin flesh of the thing's arm. He felt a little sick in the pit of his stomach when the creature swirled around to face him, its gel covered mouth opening in an unheard scream. It fell forward, forcing Todd to fall on his back where he landed a hard kick to its chest to push it back and over before it landed on him. The fallen body slowed down some of the others as they had to cut through it with their knives before coming after him, and he took advantage of this to run as fast as he could to the entrance of the human reef.

Letta was relieved to find Todd already waiting anxiously for her at the bottom of the white enclosure where there was a large, dark opening. He seemed to have fared slightly better than her. He was covered in blood, again, but was otherwise unmarked. She had a nasty gash down her left arm where one of the creatures had grazed her with its blade as it fell, but even though it hurt like a bitch, it didn't seem too serious.

"Squee," she whispered breathlessly, "I don't think they can see us here." She spared a short look at the circling creatures, which were now several yards away from the entrance and seemingly ignoring them.

Grimacing sympathetically at the gash that stained the torn sleeve of her blue shirt a dark red, but knowing that there was nothing he could do to make it better at the moment, Todd retrieved his flashlight from his pocket, shining the light into the opening. "Yeah, I noticed." That had actually been a little too easy. This was definitely a trap, but something was telling him to keep going. He had to get to the top level.

"So, we're really going in there?" Adding her own light to the darkness, Letta was only slightly shocked to see that an underground river surfaced from under bone-like rocks at only a few feet past the mouth of the structure. The water was so dark that nothing under the surface could be made out, but stranger still was that the river seemed to be flowing against gravity, uphill.

"We have to. Or I do anyway. Watch the first step. We need to move to the side before the water starts." With that said, Todd took the first step into the darkness, feeling the skull-shaped rocks shift under his weight as he moved along the bank of the river for what might have been about thirty steps. Finally, there was some type of ground and he stepped onto it, shining his light ahead as Letta followed.

Releasing a deep sigh as she took a few careful steps away from the river, Letta bent down to gently scrape her fingers against the ground, just to make sure it was really there. Something about this place made her feel off balance, not just physically, but mentally. It was like nothing that she had ever learned applied to this place, but it was there, everywhere, at the center of things. A shiver ran down her spine as what passed for sand cut into her fingers. "Ouch! Ground bone ...."

"Letta, get up." Todd wished that he had a third hand to place on her shoulder as he stood a little ahead of her, facing a very, very old man whose face, or at least the right side of it that was exposed to him, seemed to be split into many segments because the age lines ran so deep. His plaid shirt and white dress shorts stuck out in the stygian surroundings in much the same way as his one bulbous, yellow and bloodshot eye protruded from its socket to an unnatural degree.

Shaking most of the particles free from her bleeding fingers, Letta rose to her feet, her eyes widening as they passed over the deformed being, which so far had remained perfectly still. He seemed to be resting in place, hunched over on a cane that had once been a human leg, but was now stripped of any meat, its skeletal foot grasped tightly in aged hands. It shouldn't have held together at the joints, but obviously the usual laws of the universe didn't apply here. Her posture became more rigid. She could have sworn that something beneath the huge tumor on his hairless forehead had just moved. No. Not moved. _Crawled_."Squee, what is that thing?"

"Grandpa Hatey." His light traveled down the old man's body quickly to land beside his feet on another relic: an old, dusty, wooden boat. "Charon. The ferryman."

"Your grandfather is a Greek god?"

"No. Of course not. It's just the role; it's symbolic." He shook his head at the silly extrapolation. But at least she knew who Charon was. To be honest that was kind of surprising in itself. "Besides, do you think a Greek god would look like _that_?"

"Ha. No. Why _does_ he look like that? I've never seen anyone look that old." The humor was forced and hollow.

They both jumped back when the light snoring suddenly came to an abrupt stop and the old body began to move in jerky, mechanical twitches like the old animatronics that Bloaty's used to frighten small children.

Sparks shot from the joints of Grandpa Hatey's legs, arms and neck as he stood up, but remained hunched, slowly turning around to face the two newcomers full on. "I'll tell you why I look like this!" A thin, too-straight finger shot out in Todd's direction. "Cause I's 'pouse to eat all my youngins first born! Orders from above, ya know? Just like with that little orange kitten. But _he_ tripped me up, so now I don't look young and purdy no more! Didn't ya, boy?"

At the sight of the old man's face, which was missing from most of the left side where the skin looked to have been peeled off of an underlying metal skull, Letta dropped her flashlight to the ground. Quickly, she bent down to retrieve it before backing up even more. "He's not human."

"That's right, girly, I's got enough metal in me that I might as well be a cyborg! And you can't kill cyborgs, can you, boy! Hehehehe!"

Todd's face scrunched up in disgust and fear as his grip tightened on his blade. "Listen, we know that you're not really Hatey, so are you going to take us over or not?"

"Don't take that tone of voice with me, boy! I might eat ya yet! Do you two got payment for passage? Cause if not, I bet some of my quarters are still in your greedy head! How's about I collect 'em with my dinner, eh?"

"I never _had_ your quarters, you crazy, smelly, old bastard!" Wait! No. He needed to calm down, stay level headed. This wasn't his grandfather. This whole thing was too much like a dream, even while being too realistic for comfort. It was so easy to forget that it was an illusion, so difficult to stay lucid. "Err. I mean, yeah, we can pay. Hold on a minute."

Before he even had time to pull Letta aside and ask the others for coins, four shiny, new quarters appeared before him. Despite the horrible situation, he smiled a little. "Thanks, Gaz. You think I could get a holster for the machete too?"

"_Yeah, yeah. Hold on, you little whiner. I wouldn't get in the boat with him, by the way."_

The old man's one eye ball twitched. "Who you talking to boy? Where'd them coins come from, eh! I bet they come from your ears! You got all my money in that head of yours, don't ya! _Don't ya_!" His tongue slipped out to run hungrily across sharp metal that rose slightly above his nearly toothless gums as he took a few swift steps toward Todd, making more sparks fly from the joints in his legs.

Grabbing the coins out of the air, Todd stepped back a pace before swinging his blade through 'Hatey's' cane, which promptly fractured at an angle and fell apart.

The old man was sent hurling to the ground, landing roughly in the bone-based sand. He let out a pained groan as Todd kicked the remains of the walking stick away.

"Sorry, you're not coming along." After making use of his new holster, Todd tossed four silver coins to the ground beside the man. "You know, orders from above." He made a wide half-circle around him to avoid his grasping hands on his way to the modest boat, taking the long navigating pole from its place as Letta boarded. Hopping on himself, he used the wooden pole to push off from the shore, letting the current move them up and back, away from the mouth of the structure.

As the boat drifted toward the middle of the river, Todd had to put more pressure into maneuvering as well as having to lean down to reach the bottom. Every now and then, he felt the pole bump against something in the water. Some of the objects seemed to float on the surface like dead bodies, while others would hiss and slither away or attempt to eat the pole until he was forced to shake them off vigorously.

He had tucked his own flashlight back into his pocket to use both hands to steer, guiding the boat instead by the meager luminance that Letta's provided as she shined her own from her seated position behind him. Because her light focused on the walls and surrounding shore of the structure, he couldn't see much of what was in the water in front of him, but he thought this might have been for the best. The sight of the alien-like life forms stretching in impossible angles to consume each other, sometimes without even possessing mouths for the process, on the banks was scary enough.

"Squee, where are we going?"

"I dunno. Not to the other side. That would be pretty stupid. Down the river somewhere, I think. Or up, I guess." Technically, they had been following the current to an increasingly higher elevation for what could have been a matter of minutes or hours now. The slope of the river was gradual, and the river itself seemed to curve in varying degrees. Todd knew this instinctively from steering, but to Letta the progress was probably indiscernible.

Letta sighed lightly to herself, partly out of frustration, but mostly to drown out the sound of what was probably some kind of tentacle monster tapping its appendages against the sides of the rotting wood that separated them from the dark water. Shifting the stream of light to the source of the tapping, she cringed as her suspicions were confirmed when she was met with a pair of yellow eyes that blinked at her with two sets of lids while arms with sharp spines clung to the boat. She apprehensively scooted over as much as the small space would allow.

"Letta, light!" Todd turned around to glance at the creature that was stealing the spotlight that should have been directed at where they were going. "What is-" He paused as the air shifted to his left and a small shriek bounced off of the walls. "Something is flying around in here." Tightening the grip of his left hand on the pole, he retrieved his own flashlight, attempting to locate that something. Several more shrieks sounded in the distance, but the creatures were too fast for him.

"Oh, relax. It's probably just ...," she paused as Todd's light passed over what, in the darkness, had appeared to be a large stalactite, "bats." She locked eyes with the pale and hairless being as the boat slowly drifted by. The creature was hanging upside down, attached to a formation that resembled a canine tooth, almost touching the dark water. It would have passed for a gargoyle if not for the head that turned red eyes in their direction, following their movement with a kind of acknowledgment.

"Yeah. Bats." Just as Todd felt they had passed the giant, eerily human-looking bat by a safe distance, another screech sounded. This time it was louder, maybe because it was closer, but by the sound, probably because it was in pain. Quickly, he shone the light to his right. Once again, he failed to find the bat, but what he did find nearly had him losing his hold on the pole.

His eyes traveled appraisingly from the top of a teal, iridescent head of hair to a porcelain face with full, ruby lips that it framed. The hair came to several dead ends just below lithe shoulders and just above a pair of firm, naked breasts. Further down, scales that matched the hair in color merged smoothly with the skin to disappear beneath the water where a webbed hand with pointed fingers emerged to beacon them.

While Todd did nothing to answer the beacon call, he also did nothing to steer them out of the course that was indeed taking them in her direction. The pole scraped loosely against the bottom of the river as the boat moved, bringing them within mere feet of the mermaid. "She's so ..."

"Beautiful." Letta picked up his lingering sentence with an awed, far away tone. "You know, I had stopped believing that they were real." Despite the persistence of the tentacle monster and his unsavory endeavors, she had moved back to the edge of the right side of the boat to be closer to the magical being before them, whose face remained majestically serene as her webbed hand reached for them.

"_No, no, no! Back up, idiots! Don't get close to that thing! Don't get close to anything! I don't know how many lives you have left!" _

Todd shook his head as if trying to clear it of a fog. He found himself suddenly dizzy. Everything that was happening seemed to be muffled, at a distance from reality. Gaz's words made sense, but they didn't seem to matter. The mermaid _was_ very pretty, but something was off about her. Her face wasn't expressive enough. Her eyes never sought contact with their own. Her fingers were practically claws: the signature of a predator. But it was hard to really care.

His eyes widened as he recognized that familiar feeling that was so much like what he had felt on Pepito's couch. The thing was manipulating them, lulling them into complacency to get them close. He forced himself to turn away from the thing, to imagine the current of clean air clearing away the fog again. It took three good tries, but he finally managed it, his fear mounting as the danger of the situation hit him again. "Letta, get back!"

"Shh, Squee, you're going to scare her away."

"Good!" He wanted to hit her with the stick when she stuck out her own hand toward the outstretched mermaid's because he couldn't let it go to pull her back. Instead, he settled for kicking her in the shin so that she fell on her butt in the boat just as the mermaid's placid mouth opened as wide as his father's had earlier.

The pained sound that Letta had opened her mouth to voice turned into a cry of fright as a second head, covered in blue-green scales like the rest of the body, shot out of the alluring being's mouth to lunge forward, baring rows of sharp teeth as it bit into the tentacle monster on the side of the boat. The vacant, large black eyes of the false head of the mermaid stared unseeing ahead as the monster hissed and then screamed as it was devoured and dragged back into the first mouth.

Todd's flashlight fell to the bottom of the boat as he grabbed the pole with both hands, pushing off as hard and fast as he could. As he did so, images of the creature flashed through his mind. Up close, just before the lunge, he had been able to make out very small, light scales that only gave the illusion of skin. It was all fake. All of the beauty was an adaptation to lure in humanoids: to lure in _prey_. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought. "Letta, give me some light! I can't see where we're going."

Letta bent further down to pick up Todd's light, but just as she pointed the light beams in front of the boat, it came to an abrupt halt, sending them both tumbling forward. "Shit! I'm stuck in something!" She was still in the boat, but most of her upper body was suspended by red threads beaded in a sticky mucus. By the light that had fallen in a propped-up position on the bed of the boat, she could see that Todd was stuck in the same web-like strings that dangled from above, except that he had obviously been thrown out of the boat. He was now hanging just above the murky water, and the pole was nowhere in sight.

As soon as he took in the red appendages that held him up, Todd began to struggle against their hold. They were thinner and almost silky, but they were the same as the vines from outside the structure and from his room. There was no mistaking it. He swung his body back and forth, trying desperately to regain a hold on the boat, but then the tendons were moving, wrapping around his limbs and lifting him up and away from relative safety. His struggling came mostly to a stop as he stared up at the ceiling, making him suspect that the droplets of mucus on the strings contained a tranquilizing agent much like that of glowworm webs.

The vines were retreating into large cracks in the bone that they seemed to have broken through in order to fish for fresh blood. He could see Letta being lifted up after him as he neared a crack that he was apparently going to be forced through, but there was nothing he could do. He could barely move, and everything was getting fuzzy.

It seemed as though Todd had only just blinked, but it had to have been longer than that because when he opened his eyes, he had already passed through the crack. He was seated at a bone table that looked like it might have been grown, killed and cleaned instead of carved. In this place that prospect seemed entirely likely. Looking up from the smooth, but uneven surface, his body gave a violent jolt when he saw Letta sitting across from him between her mother and Saint Judith. Both of the latter were still quite dead; this time _really_ dead. They, like Letta, were held in place by the vines that had lifted them up from the lower level. The vines had now worked their way into their bodies at various vital points.

When his body jerked, he could feel the veins in his own wrists tug him back into place in response. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath before looking down to see the red strings leading from inside small holes in his wrists, which rested on the table, to a large mass of organics: the heart of the monster that had surrounded him in his bedroom! Its vines were connected to everyone at the table, controlling the dead and entrapping Letta and himself.

Surveying his environment, he realized that the entire 'room' was constructed from a huge tree-like thing that had been mostly hollowed out on the inside, where they were. A red film of organic material covered the branches, basking them in a crimson glow. The walls were much like his own had become in that horrible nightmare: drenched in blood and carnivorous veins and organs. There were other dead people at the table with them. Deacon Jasper and Sister Victoria were both seated at the end of the table to his right, both charred and bloody from the fire in the catacomb. His own parents were on either side of him; his father still missing a leg and his mother's head having been haphazardly stitched back on.

Eyes slowly blinking open, Letta looked around with a dazed expression before finally focusing on their current predicament and their deceased companions. She screamed. And screamed. And then she screamed more coherently. "Oh my God, I can't take this anymore! Why...why won't it just let us go!"

"Ah, finally awake I see."

Her heads turned toward the source of the voice, and Todd followed her gaze with his own to see the nightmare rendition of Johnny moving from the shadows into the red light as he approached the head seat of the table to Todd's left. He was no longer simply a body made of twisted sinews and possessing vague features in common with the Scary Neighbor Man. No, now he was covered head to leather boots in skin: Johnny's skin. It appeared to have been tanned. The stitch jobs that connected the various sections were little better than the one that held his mother's head on. On top of the skin suit, he wore one of Johnny's typical outfits, with a shirt claiming that he could taste their fear, which was probably literally true in his case.

"Shmee! What the hell is this!"

The blue-haired head tilted to the side in a questioning manner, purple light pouring from the eyes onto Todd's face. "What? You don't like my new wardrobe?" His voice was dripping with condescending sarcasm, which he complemented with an exaggerated sigh. "And I was _certain_ that it was an improvement on the last one. Oh well, too late for another change I suppose. Why, Thanksgiving dinner is almost upon us!"

Letta's hands trembled against the table as her eyes settled on the giant organ in the center where a turkey should have been had this been a real holiday. She gagged, but nothing came up.

"Now, now. We mustn't eat before grace." The trauma sponge pulled out a tall bone chair, crossing his legs as he took a seat with elbows resting on the table. "Todd, would you like to start? What are _you_ thankful for? Don't be shy, my boy."

Todd glared at him with hard eyes, trying not to think about whether they were supposed to be eating the thing on the table or if it was going to be eating them. "I'm not playing any more of your sick games, Shmee."

Shmee shook his head at the rude response. "My, my, aren't we an irate little man this evening! I know that you think it is a celebration of a myth that denies the cultural annihilation of the native peoples of this country, and I do apologize for any offense, but that is no excuse for being ungrateful. Besides, my garments for the evening are very much in line with the tradition of the Aztecs, aren't they?"

"Ungrateful! What exactly am I supposed to be grateful for here?"

"Yes, ungrateful. I have welcomed you inside my home to celebrate this most splendid occasion of our reunification after having to go to a great deal of trouble to even get to you in the first place. I've gone out of my way to supply you with willing parents because I know how family holidays always sting when you don't have any. And _this_ is how you repay me! If you're not ready to contribute, then at least have the decency to bow your head."

A sharp reply died on his lips when Todd saw all of the dead celebrants bow their heads and clasp their hands in a prayer position. Letta's head was already bowed in what was probably a state of emotional exhaustion and her hands moved almost mechanically to copy the others. His own were soon to follow when the vines attached to his arms forcefully raised them and pushed them together, jerking his whole body toward the table so that his head fell forward.

"Now, _I_ will start. Ahem. Dear Lord, I would like to thank you for the bountiful harvest that has so graciously been laid out before me. It is a great comfort, especially after having _fasted_ for such a long time. I am also thankful for my very _dearest friend_, Todd, coming back into my life. He has been sorely missed, even if that sentiment hasn't always been _returned_. I am thankful to Johnny for freeing me from that restricting cage of fur and cotton and giving me instead this extravagant vestment. And lastly, I am so very _thankful_ to Todd's 'sister', Letta here, for all of those blessed years of solitude, which have allowed me to _reflect_ so thoroughly upon my situation." His words turned more accusing than sarcastic when he gave Letta a piercing look. "So, yes. Thank you, my dear."

Tears ran down her face to fall upon the ivory below her bowed head, but she dared not meet the nightmare's searing gaze. "I ... I didn't mean. I didn't know ...."

"That you were locking me in a dark, dusty filing closet with no access to any outside contact? That you were depriving a living being of sustenance and companionship?" He smiled in mock sympathy as he rested his hands upon the table, the patchwork skin jostling a bit from the movement of the right being crossed over the left. "Of course you didn't. How could you? Surely the word of little Todd here wouldn't have sufficed. He is, after all, quite insane, if you can't tell by now."

"Leave her alone, Shmee. She can't see the stuff I see. She couldn't have known. And it's your own fault that she thought you were making me worse. You fucking _were_ making me worse!" Todd was really in no position to be shouting at their captor so hostilely, but at least it was distracting him form from Letta.

Shmee's head turned to the other side of the table, purple eyes narrowed in bewildered anger. "I _protected_ you, Todd! I did my best to keep you alive and mentally intact when no one else cared. I told you the things that you needed to know, all the while keeping you safe from the painful truth of your life. Of all life on this planet. Keeping you innocent of the sickness that almost every member of your race wallows in and thinks it good! And now look at you! Look at the lengths I have to go to just to make you scream! Face it, my little boy lost, you are _infected_ with the vileness of this world!"

"Don't call me that! You only kept me 'safe' and 'innocent' because you needed me to be easily terrified so you could feed on my fear! You're the reason that my life was so full of horrors!"

"Yes! Fear is the oldest and strongest emotion of all organic creatures of your kind. Without me, without experiencing the terrible, without feeling that primal and eternal fear, you would have never known the sublime! You would be as lost and empty as the rest of these cattle! Even more lost and empty than you have allowed yourself to become! But it isn't too late! I just have to keep you isolated. Isolated and safe from yourself."

"Safe from _myself_, Shmee?" It sounded preposterous, especially since the only time that he had been really interested in self harm had been a result of the trauma sponge's harassment, but something about it almost made sense. Todd felt as if his mind was spreading out, attempting to wrap around something important, but not quite succeeding. But he didn't have time to dwell on it. What he needed was some kind of logic, if Shmee could even process such a thing at this point. "Safe from the world, safe from choice? Safe from _life_? The only way that's going to work is if you kill me because, guess what, I am alive. And what's the point in being alive if not to live?"

Shmee actually laughed at this. "Oh, that's rich coming from you, Todd. Ever since I met you, you've been trying to hide from the world! Even now, I can sense that you're terrified deep down of being truly free of that padded room, and with good reason. Life is so chaotic, isn't it? And navigating it! Actually making decisions instead of just playing it by ear. You've always been rather bad at that, my boy. That's why you need me to run interference, to filter out anything that you can't handle, to keep any real choices, any dangerous thoughts, far out of reach."

Todd broke contact with the his eyes, his own falling to the vines that still secured his hands in a steepled position. Shmee's words had cut deeper than he thought they should have. Of course he had tried to hide from the world! After being exposed to the things that he had seen in his short life, who wouldn't have? But maybe he had been far too quick to assume that everything that he encountered would be more of the same, to imagine the worst of people and situations. Still, he _did_ want to be free of the padded room! And he didn't need or want Shmee to force him into a mental one to keep the real world at bay. He wanted to know what it was like to live, to truly live.

Another deep breath and he met Shmee's gaze again. "I don't want that anymore." Bringing a leg up to the supports under the table, he kicked away from it violently, sending his chair crashing backwards onto the floor. There was a crack as the bone of the chair splintered, and Todd rolled out of it's clutches as if it would come to life and capture him. Pulling himself into a semi-sitting position, he used his feet to move further away from the table until the red vines were a tight leash holding him there.

Pushing down the queasy feeling that tried to take possession of his stomach at what he was about to do, Todd employed all of his will to force his hands apart and back even more, slowly pulling the vines from his arms. The pain of the tendons clinging to the veins in his wrists was nothing compared to the mere knowledge of it, the sight and feel of them being pulled out. As soon as they were finally extracted, he moved out of their reach, even though the whole room was comprised of the same substance, the same creature.

"I didn't ask you what you wanted, child." Shmee rose from his seat, making his way around the table as Todd scurried before him on hands and knees. "I'm _telling_ you what you _need_!"

When he reached Letta's chair, Todd finally stood on shaky legs, facing his peruser. "What makes you think you know what I need? Maybe I only ever thought I needed your protection because you've been telling me that since I was three days old! You never asked me what I needed!"

"I didn't _have_ to ask! You told me every day with your feelings, with your fears. You were so small. So helpless and alone, and unconsciously you knew it. Those people," he paused to gesture at the dead Casils, "were not going to give you what you needed."

Gaze following Shmee's gesture, Todd allowed his eyes to linger on the corpses of his fictional parents before turning back with teary cheeks. "You don't know that. B-before you came ... before all of the bad things came they-" a hiccup interrupted his sentence, "they might have loved me one day. But it's too l-late now. Now all I have is ... is ..."

"The fleeting and empty promises of other shallow and corrupted humans." This time Shmee's voice was gentler as he stepped forward, closing the few feet between them. One patchwork hand rose to cup a wet cheek. "Let her go, my boy. Let them all go. You don't need them. They don't love you. Not like I do."

As Todd forced himself to look up into the purple eyes, he felt as if something inside himself had broken. More tears came of their own volition, as if spewing from a dam. "You're right, Shmee. They don't love me like you do." His own hand moved to cover the one gloved in Johnny's skin atop his cheek and his eyes closed for a moment.

He hoped that it looked like he was taking in the comfort, even though touching that skin sent waves of nausea through his body. What he was doing was disgusting and desperate, but at this point, it seemed like his only chance. He could hear the frantic voices of the others telling him this was a bad idea, that it wasn't true. So many things, but he tuned them all out, pushed them so far back that they became a low buzzing.

"They can't. They're too consumed by their own petty egos to love anyone else. They fill the world with their evil, their hate, their secret self loathing. They pretend to love one another, even to the point of convincing themselves, out of nothing more than fear of being alone, of truely seeing what empty horrors they are inside. But I am constructed from your own ego, from your own needs."

Todd smiled sadly as Shmee's voice grew more confident, feeling the hand move from his cheek to run through his hair again. This time the gesture was almost genuine, but it still lacked depth. _Shmee_ lacked depth. He lacked any true understanding of human emotion. Todd opened his eyes, his hand once again seeking out Shmee's, this time to hold it. "I'm sorry, Shmee."

A giant smile enveloped his face, red sinews showing behind the corners of his mouth. "Good. Then stay with me, Todd, and you will never have to feel unwanted again."

"No. I mean I'm really sorry." Still holding the hand tightly in his own, Todd stepped back quickly, pulling his laser-edged machete from its holster and switching it on. He saw a look of confusion and hurt on that hideous face before he finally let go to spin around, cutting into Shmee's midsection when he came back. Both Shmee's cries of pain and betrayal and Letta's cries of shock and fear mixed together as blood spewed from the gaping wound and a lump of shin and sinews fell to the ground.

Ignoring the cries the best he could, Todd turned back to Letta, forcing her hands apart and pulling the vines out of her wrists, flinching as he relived the feeling of what she was going through. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I know it sucks, but we've got to get out of here."

When she was free of the vines, she rose to her feet, but nearly tripped as she backed away from the gory scene. Each of her hands held one of her wrists tightly as she sobbed from the pain and the lingering fear that her veins would come out with the tendons. "Th-th-thanks, Todd. You-you're. Oh my God, I thought you ... but you're-"

"I know. Sorry I had to do that." Gripping Letta by her upper arm, Todd pulled her to the other side of the room, where the film of organics looked thinner. "I think this is the way out. Or in."

"I-in!"

"Out! It's out, okay?"

"Oh ... no ... you ... don't." The phrase escaped the stitched mouth like the last words of a dying man before a thick green mist rose from it, circling through the room, around the bodies of his dead dinner guests.

"Shit. Help me with this." Once again taking his blade in hand, Todd began cutting through the bloody film with Letta's help. Sure enough, there was a type of entry way that he hesitated to call a door on the other side! But by the time they had cleared enough of the monstrous coverings away, he looked back to see that the dinner guests had risen from their seats. Either Shmee was controlling them all somehow with his vapory form or the red vines, which he could no longer see attached to them or lying flaccid on the table like his and Letta's were, were inside them, controlling them. Either way, the bodies were coming for them, and they needed to move fast.

"Fuck! Step over it!" Letta hopped over the remaining organic material clinging to the bottom of the hole that they had just uncovered, pulling Squee haphazardly behind her. "Not dead people again!" The passage that they were now in was much like the room that they had just left. It was like being inside a giant, living monster. As they ran through the more empty spaces that might have passed for a path of some kind, she could see other holes, some covered in the same loose film and some not, leading to other 'rooms'. A few of them were more like windows to the outside world of black emptiness and bloody, carnivorous ground that they had started in. The vines outside were growing up the walls of the structure.

Todd dared a glance back. The dead bodies were still coming after them, surrounded by the green mist, and maintaining a steady pace. They weren't gaining on them, but they definitely weren't falling behind either. That was just stupid! Dead things don't move fast! If they ran that fast, their ankles were gonna snap off. Still, he sped up his efforts, taking Letta's hand to make sure she did the same. "Dead things move slow, Shmee! Dead things move slow!"

"Todd, where the hell are we going? I don't think this is the way out! The ground is sloped. We're getting higher!"

"At the end of this hall there's gonna be a door! A really big one with strong locks inside! That's where we're going. There's a way out in there. I can feel it."

"Feel it?" she shouted in disbelief.

"Well, it _is_ my brain, right?"

"I don't know! Technically. Maybe." Even though she had already known that, the thought was still unsettling. No wonder Squee had always been so afraid of everything!

Todd released a relieved sigh when at last they reached their destination. A large door loomed ahead, its shape an odd one that conformed to the surrounding wall instead of the standard rectangular model. He and Letta ran through the entrance, working together to push the heavy door closed and turn several bolts that would lock it. Just as they finished, there was a series of thuds from the other side; probably the dead bodies running into the door. They both backed up as a loud banging commenced against their stronghold.

"I don't think they can break the locks."

"Todd, there's no way out of here."

He turned around to scan the near barren room that some unconscious motivation had driven him to. Overall, it looked like an old attic in an abandoned house, granted, a monstrously deformed, alien, organic house, that had seen better days. There were no other doors, no staircases, not even a rope ladder to the ground outside, but in the very center of the dusty room there was a circular arch that seemed to radiate with energy. Inside the arch was a great untempered schism, a vortex that seemed to swirl and explode with incomprehensibly infinite possibility. "Yes, there is."

Letta's voice became even more strained with fear and stress as she looked back and forth between the arch, the first geometrically sensical architecture that she had beheld in that world, and Squee. "No, Todd, that's ... I don't even know what it is, but it can't be safe. Who knows where it even goes? If it even goes anywhere at all! We can't go in there!"

Biting his lip in thought, Todd approached her carefully before taking her into a quick, but meaningful hug. "Maybe you can't, but I have to. I think it's the only way for me."

"But-"

"No. I have to." His tone became more urgent when he pulled away, looking away from her teary face to see the green mist invading the room through the small cracks between the door and the walls like it had in his bedroom before. "You should go now. Get out before it's too late."

"Todd-"

"Letta, the worst thing that could happen is that it might kill me, right? But that's a chance that I'm willing to take at this point. I was supposed to come here. Now go! Gaz, get her out, now!"

"_Squee, don't do anything stupid! I can still win this!" _

Gaz's voice was only the first to ring out in the in the chorus of variations of Letta's protest. Zim assured him that his technology could save him because it was amazingly superior, and that he would be a prime example of human stupidity to walk into the 'swirly, rippy, teary doorway of doom'. Pepito, of course, wanted to take him to his house to try a different method, and Dib felt the need to stress that if he died in his mind, he might really die. But none of that mattered. "I said get her out! This isn't up for discussion!"

He stepped up to the arch, ready to go if only Letta would let go of his hand. Once again, he shut the others out of his mind, letting them know in no uncertain terms that he was committed to this course of action.

Letta started to protest, but even as she held tightly to Squee's hand, she could see her own starting to fade out. She tried to speak again, to beg him not to do it, but it was too late. She was waking up.

Todd felt a stab of emotional pain as she finally disappeared, taking even the hum of the other voices with her, before looking back into the vortex in front of him. After raising a hand to skim the surface of the schism, he brought it back, his body shaking with a strange kind of energy. But he didn't have time for this kind of experimentation. The room was now full of fog and Shmee would be trying to stop him again soon. Savoring one last breath, in case it really was his last, he stepped forward, taking the plunge through the archway.

The entire world seemed to come to an end. And then a beginning. And then some impossible state that contained both the beginning and the end, but was neither. Everything that he thought he knew was consumed by a black, scorching fire, which left freshly ignited stars burning in its wake. Space. He was in space! Or he _was_ space because he didn't seem to have a body anymore, not even an imaginary one. He felt as though his being was spread over an enormous distance, through an enormous expanse of time. When he moved, the universe moved, but it was impossible to tell which one was the initiator of the movement. Everything was swirling together; dancing to some undifferentiated song that told an unspoken truth, a never-ending story.

With every spin that existence took, he became more spread out, more entangled in its invisible folds, more a part of its every facet. He could feel himself slipping almost carelessly away, his ego being stripped like tarnish from fine, old silver. He thought that maybe he was dying, but it didn't matter. It was funny, even hilarious, the lives that were wasted worrying about mortality. Then, in an instant that could have been an eternity, there was no more him. There was no more anything, but that nothing was everything. It contained everything because when nothing becomes a stable condition it becomes something, and chaos can not allow that. It was every possible reality, every point in time all at once. It was amazing, and completing and terrifying. And then it was gone.

Slowly, the subjective experiences of his life came back to him. The world was black again: black and empty. The horrors of before were nowhere to be seen. No more blood sea for ground, no more hungry vines, no more blade-armed creatures or bone structures. Just nothing except for himself and one other.

Todd stared at the glowing energy being with a sort of dazed look. The being had taken on a similar appearance to that which Pepito's father had showed them in the projection from Johnny's basement. The lung-like organs inside were still dark in color, but the two outer layers had changed. The inner body was turquoise instead of orange and the outer murky red mist had turned to a soft blue glow. "Shmee?"

The being stared back in awe. "Todd, that ... that was magnificent! I'd no idea that humans were capable of such feats! There was so much emotional energy! And without any fear! It shouldn't be possible!"

At those words Todd's expression hardened, though he found that he had to force any actual anger to the surface. "Is that all you care about, you precious energy and how much you can get?"

"No! No, my boy, you don't understand! You don't know what this means for my people! For your own people! If this ... experience of yours could be simulated in other hosts, then fear would no longer be necessary. It would mean a whole new approach to life! It would mean-"

So Shmee had felt all of that too. Of course he had. He had been in Todd's mind when it happened, and maybe the sheer force of it all had peeled a couple layers of illusion from the anaphasic life form as well. Maybe. But he still was what he was. He was being more straightforward now, but he was still obsessed with feeding, and Todd was in no mood to deal with this. "Shmee?"

"Yes?" The life form stopped mid-sentence at the interruption.

"Get out of my mind."

"Of course, my boy, but if you would just listen-"

"We'll talk about this later."

"Todd-"

"Later, Shmee." With a focused effort of will then, Shmee disappeared much as Letta had before he had stepped into the arch, leaving Todd alone with the darkness; alone with himself. He smiled slightly. "This won't do."

-----------Back at the lab----------------

Letta sat in a chair with a blanket around her shoulders as she raised a still trembling hand to take a slow sip of some kind of tea-like drink that Zim's computer had given her to calm her nerves. At first she had been hysterical, almost certain that Squee was going to die. But the screen had continued to document what he was experiencing, even if the boy himself was nowhere in sight. And then he had been back, alive and safe. And no longer trapped in the bone structure. Her relief was immense, but she still felt as though she might be in shock. And she might need therapy herself after this, but there was no way that she could tell her dad about it.

"Do not worry, fragile little worm baby! The Squeaky-human is finnne! See?" Zim pointed a black-gloved finger at the monitor happily. Just a few Earth minutes ago the Shmee-monster had finally been separated from the boy's body, thanks in large part to the _amazing_ technology of Zim! Or so he liked to pretend. He wasn't really sure what had given the Squeak the power to control his inner world, but all that really mattered was that it was working to the Invader's advantage. Shmee was currently contained in the pink bear of fluffy, fluffy wuv, merrily and eagerly waiting for his human to wake up. As were they all.

"That would make such a great game. Well, you know, if it was a first person shooter type game. And with more levels and twists." Gaz smirked, looking to her left, at her brother. "Do you think Squee would mind it I based a game on this?"

"What?" Giving her a look of disbelief, Dib shook his head. "I don't know, Gaz! Ask him yourself ... sometime after all this is over."

"I thought it _was_ over."

"It's not over until we take down Bitters! This is just the first step! Now we have to question the alien-"

"The one that you're not going out with?"

"Yes, the one that I'm not-hey!" He paused to take a deep breath, ignoring Zim's pleased look. Anything that brought him displeasure pleased Zim. "Shmee. We have to question Shmee so that we can get more intelligence on Bitters. And then we formulate a plan to stop her horrible evil! And then-"

"Okay, okay, we get it. You think maybe I should cut out the ending? It's kind of lame." She gestured to the screen, where Squee was lying on his back in a relaxed position, all the while busy with the task of recreating his imaginary world. It was like watching a time lapse of evolution. It played out so fast that it looked more like magic than science, but she figured that maybe it was because there were fairies and other such creatures. Giant yellow and purple flowers bloomed to release hoards of fireflies, which took to the air and the sky, sprinkling it with shiny stars. "Yeah. Really lame." The monsters had been cooler.

"Oh, I don't know. I kind of like it." Pepito added his opinion absentmindedly, even though the question hadn't been addressed to him, without taking his eyes off the screen. "It's a fitting prize for winning an inner battle against your own fears: gaining control of your own world, becoming your own god."

"Pssh. Like I said, totally lame. Gamers like _cool_ rewards like free pizza. Or just cool endings."

Pepito rolled his eyes at this, but couldn't bring himself to be truly upset at the moment. Todd was okay, and that was the important thing. He couldn't expect most humans to understand his sentiment anyway. Gaz probably couldn't handle that kind of power herself. The truth was, not many people could.

Humans had historically not been too capable when it came to facing the truth that they so ardently claimed to seek, and often mistakenly claimed to have. Of those who did see beyond the veil of all time and space without some kind of filter, like the All Seeing Eye or a firm hold on what they were looking for such as when he and Todd had paid a visit to Hell, most ran away in fear. Others went insane. It was a rare person who was actually inspired. He smiled. He had always known that Todd was special.

"Just think of it as the ultimate game cheat."

"Yeah, but the game is already over. And even if it wasn't, a cheat that powerful would make it pointless."

"No. The game is just beginning. The game is life: real life."

Great. Now Pepito was starting to sound like Dib. Gaz gave him an incredulous look. "You're saying that his having power over his imagination like that is going to give him powers in real life? Outside of his mind and Zim's simulator?"

"No, no." He waved a dismissive hand, though his mind was't quite as sure. "Not directly. But his fears and insecurities have always held him back, you know? And now maybe he can get over that. Self-confidence and security play a big part of getting what you want in life."

Gaz shrugged. Everything that he was saying was true, and she guessed that she did hope Squee gained something from the experience. But it was still a lame thing to put into a video game.

"Hey, Pepito, you're pretty smart for a popular kid." Dib's tone was a mix of admiration and suspicion. It _was_ meant as a compliment, but how a nonconformist with an IQ over one hundred could become popular eluded him. What if something sinister was going on? Something paranormal!

It was Pepito's turn to shrug. "Eh. I'm not that popular." It was true. He was only moderately popular, which was exactly what he wanted in hi skool. Being at the top of the rung meant being secretly hated by everyone else, friends included. It also usually meant flipping burgers or driving trucks after hi skool was over. But there was a rare, almost magical place in hi skool society: a place where you could maintain the respect of most of the important cliques and teachers alike; a place where you could make good grades and be on student council without being a nerd or a suck up.

He could socialize with people from most social statuses without raising an eyebrow. Not many people actually wanted to _be_ him, which was what garnered jealousy anyway, but almost everyone wanted to be his friend. But from Dib's perspective, this was definitely an enviable position. Dib wasn't exactly on the bottom rung, the one reserved for people who didn't bathe or change clothes daily, but he wasn't far from it. Zealous ranting about deviant beliefs would do that every time, especially when you did it on table tops in crowded places. It was something he knew from long ago experience.

"Hey, there's someone else there, in his mind." Letta pointed at the screen as her hoarse voice interrupted the lag in conversation.

Pepito's eyes widened as his chain of thought was broken into millions of tiny links at what he was beholding on the screen.

As Todd lay, staring into the rising sun that must not have been hurting his eyes, a small, dark silhouette appeared in the distance. It seemed to grow larger as it approached, eventually coming into focus in the shape of a man. All through the stranger's advance, Todd had remained calm, regarding the man, as everything else, with passive interest.

When the man finally came within a few feet of him, he smiled down at his prone form before offering him a hand. "Come with me."

Todd seemed to hesitate, but there was no hint of fear or worry. The pause seemed as though it was only to consider whether he was more interested in who this fellow was or the sunrise. Eventually, he took the hand and even returned the smile.

At the point of contact, the light from the rising sun on the scene in Zim's base seemed to crest. The entire view was engulfed in white light before going stark black.

"W-what just happened?" The tea-like substance fell to the ground with a clatter and a splash.

Dib's hands instantly found Letta's shoulders to keep her calm, or at least seated, as he addressed Zim, voice serious once again. "Is he still unconscious?"

"Who _was_ that?" The words sprung from Gaz's mouth in a blend of frustration and excitement. So maybe the game _wasn't_ over yet! But how could anyone _else_ be in his mind?

"Silence, worm babies! He is still unconscious. His brain waves have jumped a little in frequency, but that shouldn't have disrupted the output."

"If Shmee is out, shouldn't he have woken up?" Letta's hand took a hold of one of Dib's in an attempt to pry it from her shoulder. She needed to move! She needed to do _something_! "Oh God, we need to get him to a hospital!"

"_Again_ with the hospital! Don't be ridiculous! Zim's basement is far more advanced that any hospital on this pathetic ... er, landmass!"

"Well, then do something!"

"Zim is working on it! Something is scrambling the data before it gets to the interface!" Stupid, uppity simians! Zim's eyes narrowed at the computer monitor before him in determination.

"So it's something on Todd's side." That's right Dib. Calm and logical. That's the way to fix this problem.

"Shit! Zim, we have to wake him up!" Pepito cringed at his own panicked voice as all eyes landed on him. "That thing ... that person ... whoever that was ... they came from the void! It could be _anything_. Anything at all!"

----------Squee's Imagination-----------

As the blinding light dimmed and the man with short, curly yellow hair came back into view, finally letting go of his hand, Todd gave him a curious look. "What was that?"

"Oh, surely you are aware of those who listen from other worlds. This, my lad, is meant to be a private conversation." He had an old-fashioned British accent, but his age was indiscernible. Not old; not young. Just ... there.

"Listeners ... oh, yeah!" He was surprised that he had forgotten that the others might still be watching. Letta had said that they needed her to talk to him, not to see or hear what was happening inside his head. It occurred to him that normally, he would have been a little embarrassed to have mucked about, creating pretty things in his mind, unawares while everyone watched, but that didn't seem to be the case at the moment. In fact, such embarrassment seemed down right silly.

"This is for you." The man pulled a thick, leather bound book from a maroon jacket, proffering it to Todd, who took it carefully into his hands.

"What is it?"

"It's a book."

"Well, yeah." Todd flipped the cover open, watching as the wind turned page after page of crisp, white parchment for him. "It's blank."

"That, my dear lad, is because you have yet to write it."

"Me?"

The man smiled knowingly, indulgently. "Yes, you."

Todd's brow creased. "What exactly am I supposed to write?"

"I can't tell you _exactly_ what to write because that symphony is no longer mine to compose." Receiving another look of confusion, he elaborated a bit. "You see, when I die ... or died to you I suppose ... only half of the work will be completed, and what is left behind will be burned by a dear and trusted friend."

"_Burned_? But that's terrible!" Book burning had always seemed a horrendously appalling act to Todd, worse even than plagiarism. It was like burning a piece of someone's soul.

"Yes, well, some men see danger and pain where others see enlightenment and pleasure." A deep sigh. "In any event, it wouldn't have had the proper effect uncompleted."

"And what effect is that?"

"To open the eternal worlds, to open the immortal eyes of humanity inwards into the worlds of thought." The man spoke with a passionate flourish. "That is why you are the perfect choice. You have just undergone that very thing!"

"So ... am I just supposed to write about the experience of ... whatever that was then? Infinity?"

"Eternity. It's not so much a measure of time, now is it? It is a state of consciousness beyond time, but which can be experienced at any time, for any length of time." He gave another smile, this one almost pleased. "The experience? By all means, if you want. But the important thing is where the creative vision leads you. It isn't enough to tell others about the Sublime, you must show them through art. Art is the language of the soul. Art of any kind, but I shall venture a guess that the written word, particularly story telling, is your forte."

"Ummm ... I do like to write, but I'm not sure that I'm very good at it."

"You mustn't do that." The man's voice was chastising, a little harsh even.

Todd stepped back a little. "Do what?"

"Doubt your talent, yourself. There are many truths, lad, but they must be believed in to be true. You must not spoil your truth with self-contradiction. You must maintain a firm persuasion in the infinities that your senses perceive!"

"Does a firm persuasion that a thing is so, make it so?"

"All poets believe that it does, and in ages of imagination this firm persuasion removed mountains; but many are no longer capable of a firm persuasion of anything. That is why this task is so important. The world needs to complete the revolution that was started in my life. It needs to throw off the chains of dogma and reason. It needs to face the Sublime, to be broken free from its illusions and obsession with weeping for a world that doesn't require any tears."

"Wait just a minute." Todd crossed his arms in a defensive stance, even though it was awkward because he was still holding the book. "You're Shmee, aren't you? You're trying to use me to get to all of the humans somehow!"

The man had a good, hard laugh. "Oh, no. No, I'm not."

"Then what's with all this talk about the 'sublime'?"

"The Sublime is the vast greatness that you have just merged with: where the horses of instruction fear to tread. There is a lot of power in the creative genius, which is the portal to the Sublime, and that power is what your friend, Shmee, feeds on, so of course he is consumed by reaching it. But he only knows half of the truth, like so many humans. Fear is a path to the Sublime, but so is love, the knowledge that all is one and therefore should be loved as oneself. Wrath and love are two sides of the same coin, designed for the same purpose, but used to reach people from different points of view."

"So ... I'm supposed to write horrifying love stories ... or romantic or friendship horror stories?" That would be a weird combination.

Another chuckle. "Perhaps. As I said before, I can't tell you what to write. Each generation must have new works for its time, based on older masterpieces perhaps, but they should not be repeated. You are to finish the Bible of Hell, but not as I would have."

"The w-hat?"

"The Bible of Hell. That is my unfinished work."

There was a resounding thud as the book slipped from Todd's jittery hands onto the wild-flower covered ground. Words spilled out of his mouth so fast that they ran together. "I-I don't want it! I don't wanna to write that!"

"Ah, but God wants you to. He has chosen you."

He shook his head. That didn't even make sense. "G-god?"

"Yes, but my God is not the god of this world, not the god of the Churches. My God is bigger than that. And smaller. The true God is the Great Architect, my God is every artist, every child. God is every part of the system, God is the whole system and God is incarnate in every being that sees as God sees: every being that sees life through an immutable substance of imagination. Seeing the Sublime is seeing God."

"Oh. But ... why me? I can't be the only person to have seen this. And why would God want me to write a Bible for Hell?"

"Because, lad, the Bible of the Churches is notoriously bad at opening the eternal eyes. It is predominately a book of rules and dogmatic morality, and rules only serve to confuse and stifle the imagination, which must be opened to the Sublime to see the glory of God. The world needs a Bible that will set them free, not one that will add more shackles.

"Heaven and Hell are points of view. To the angels of reason, Hell looks like torture, just as Heaven looks to devils. Even so, to those who wrap themselves in misery on Earth, Hell _is_ torture, in life and after life. Those who expect misery in life and the afterlife will receive it in kind.

"Those who are lost need Hell, the wrath of God, because destruction perfects that which is good; for good cannot appear on account of that which conceals it….by element of fire all that is imperfect is destroyed or taken away. It is the purpose of the more unsavory parts of Hell, but it is a hard task indeed, for many wear their woes as dreary priests wear their robes. They repeat their makes again and again, but learn naught. Their souls call out for the Sublime to burn away their misconceptions, to open that portal to God! That is why the world needs the Bible of Hell."

"Do I ... know you?" It was a question that had been on the tip of Todd's tongue ever since he had taken the man's hand.

The man paused to give him a significant look. "I believe you do, but not through the usual means. You see, I am one of the bearers of that key."

Todd looked down at the silver key that dangled from the golden colored chain. The key: _Pepito's_ key. He had to force his mouth closed when he realized that it was hanging open. "Oh! The key doesn't belong to me! I'm just borrowing it so I won't die." He bent down to retrieve the book, handing it back to the man as relief flooded through his being.

But the man's smile only grew, his hand touching Todd's without actually taking the book back. "He gave it to you?"

"He _lent_ it to me."

"For your protection?"

"... yes. Does that mean something?" Todd bit his lower lip once again as the worry started to come back. It wasn't as strong as it would have been if someone had told him all of this before, but it was still there.

"It means that the key is yours." The book was pressed back toward Todd. "That's how the Administration planned it out this time around."

"_What_?"

"In the Church's Bible, in Revelations, there is what they call the Beast and there is what they call the False Prophet. They are two different people, did you know that? The wrath and the rumor, if you will. These names are given to us by the god of this world, who is not the true God, but they are two. The Beast carries the lock and the Prophet carries the key. In my day, the Beast lead the Revolution, and I created my workbooks for the same cause, but we did not work together. Because of this the Revolution did not carry the weight of the true freedom."

"So ... everything ... my whole life ... is just a tool for the Administration and their plans? And Pepito is just ... just using me for his war. And I'm just supposed to comply with all of this?" He felt on the verge of tears, his fingers digging a little too deeply into the leather of the book. He had worked so hard to be free! Not the universe's little plaything!

"No. You're not a _tool_ of God. You are God. Just as Jesus was the only God, so am I and so are you. So is everyone, if you make them see it. And Pepito had little more idea than you did. That wasn't part of the plan. He couldn't know. His choice had to be based on love, not reason, so that the two of you would be a true team. Without the Prophet, the Beast has no true direction. His wrath will be used for oppression. Without him, your works will not revolutionize the world. The gates of Hell will remain closed to those who cannot see the Sublime without them."

"Writers can really make that much of a difference? I always thought that the, uh ... False Prophet ... was supposed to be some kind of religious leader."

"I think you'd be surprised. In the Odyssey, when a priest and a poet fall on their knees before the hero, praying for mercy, he kills the priest, but spares the poet. According to Homer, he felt awe to slay a man who had been taught his divine art by the gods. Not the priest, but the poet, had influence with the Divine. Priests are implementers of law and transient morality, which makes connection with God near impossible. Poets are the voice of God."

Todd looked down at the book uncertainly. "Do I _have_ to do this?"

"Of course not." The man's voice became more serious. "But if you don't, the world will have to wait until someone else does. And without you, your friend will be lost, and the entire world might well pay for it. He needs you, Todd. The world needs you."

A tear finally fell onto the cover of the black leather as Todd met his gaze. "I-" He paused mid-sentence when the world started to tremble and shake.

"You're waking up. You won't remember most of this."

"Why?" That wasn't fair at all! If he wasn't going to remember, why was he being told all of this? He looked at the book again. A symbol. It was a symbol, planted as a reminder that would remain, unconsciously, in his mind. Shit.

"That's just the way it works, the way it has to be."

"But-"

-----------Back at the lab----------------

"Todd! Todd, wake up! You have to wake up now!" Pepito shook him harder than he meant to as Zim unplugged the last of the diodes from his head.

"Careful, Earth-scum! Don't harm the merchandise!"

"Merchandise?" Gaz raised a purple eyebrow in the idiotic alien's direction.

Dib gave Zim a very confused, slightly disturbed glance before shaking his head. Another prime example of the very wrong things that he spewed on a regular basis. His attention was refocused on Squee when he began to make small unconscious movements, even letting a few muddled words pass into the waking world. "I think he's coming to!" The act of pointing out the recently obvious was a fine human tradition, one that he wound carry on to the chagrin of any green-skinned space-monster that dared scoff at him.

"But, I still have so many questions. So ... many questions." Todd's eyes blinked several times before his surroundings finally sunk into his brain, dislodging the cloudy process of dreaming. He was awake! He had been saying something about questions. What questions?

"Squee!" Letta drew attention to herself with a loud sniff. "You're back! You're awake!" Pushing her way between Pepito and Dib, she hugged Squee as best she could with him still seated in the holochamber's chair.

"Yeah. I guess I am." His arm warped around her upper back, against the light blue fabric of her sweater. "Thank you, Letta. All of you. For helping me."

More tears fell from Letta's eyes, but this time they were tears of joy, despite how disjointed she still felt mentally. "You're welcome, bro."

Pepito shot Todd a warm smile once Letta finally moved out of the way. "Welcome back, Amigo." He reached out a hand to help him up. "Can you stand?"

Taking the offered hand, Todd let Pepito help him up, finding it surprisingly easy to stand on his own, even after receiving another tight hug. "Thanks. Yeah, I think so. How long was I out?" He looked around the rounded, white room curiously. They must be in Zim's base. It occurred to him that everyone he knew probably had something more interesting in their basement than he did. Zim had his alien base, Dib and Gaz had a high tech science lab, Pepito had a link to Hell and Johnny had a labyrinth of torture devices, not that he wanted one of those. Even Letta had a dark room!

Dib checked his watch/communicator. "About five hours. It's nearly five in the morning."

"Ah. That makes sense." But it really didn't, though it didn't not make sense either. The truth was that it was near impossible to tell how much real time had passed while he was in the coma-like state. It could just as easily been a few months as a few minutes. But he could walk fine, and that probably wouldn't be the case if he Shmee had kept him unconscious for a long time. "Where is Shmee?"

"You will be happy to know, Squeaky little hyuman worm, that the Shmee-thing is safely tucked away in the filthy bear of hair and wuv in another part of the Mighty Zim's base! This whole thing has been a _triumph_ of Irken technology!" Zim pumped a fist into the air to emphasize what a great triumph it truly was.

"Irk-in?" The blond looked to the green kid with questioning eyes. "What's Irkin?"

"Oh! Eh ... Irken is, uh, Irken is the secret, underground company which manufacturers this amazing equipment for my people! My ... er ... parents ... used to work for Irk, the Irken corporation, before joining the FBI. Yep."

"Oh." She nodded in acceptance, though a disquieted look remained on her mascara-streaked face. The thought of another country having this kind of technology wasn't exactly comforting. Her own wouldn't stand a chance in a war with them or if Irk was for hire by possible terrorists. But at least Zim's parents were on their side, evening the playing field.

Todd gave a sigh that almost came out as a laugh at Letta's gullibility. "Can I see Shmee? I told him we would talk."

"I think that's a great idea!" Dib's right hand unconsciously ran over one of the pockets in his trench coat, making sure that he was still equipped with a recording device. "It would probably be easier if you were the one to question him. He seems much more cooperative than before, so it shouldn't be too difficult to learn what we need to know."

Zim smiled a huge, zippered smile before speaking up. "Yes! Yes, all according to plan!" _His_ plan anyway. "To the Shmee-monster! My computer has stored him in a high security level chamber of my base. Come, I will show you!"

As the others began to follow Zim from the room, Pepito gripped Todd's upper arm to stop him, giving them a small amount of privacy. "Are you really okay?"

"Yeah. I ... I think I am. I guess I should be traumatized or something, but I feel okay. A little too mentally distant from everything, but okay." Todd sent him a reassuring smile. "I can handle talking to Shmee. I think that the portal thing made him less crazy. Maybe."

Pepito's mouth formed a worried smile. "Don't get too close, Amigo." In all probability, Todd was rather vulnerable at the moment, and that sorry, manipulative ball of energy would try to take advantage of that. The power dynamics had shifted, and now he would try to play up as much sympathy as he could. And sympathy was something that Todd had an abundance of.

"I know that, Pep. I'll be careful." He gave him a slightly afforded look as he pulled the tan hand from his arm. Did Pepito think he was stupid?

Pepito allowed his hand to be removed easily, only to grasp the hand that removed it instead. "Todd, wait. There was someone else after Shmee left your imagination. And then something happened on your end of the data transference. What happened after you took his hand? Who was he?"

His brow furrowed in confusion before a vague flash of seemingly random imagery ran through his mind, just enough to tease, but not enough to give it much substance. "He said I wouldn't remember."

"Remember what?"

"I don't remember." Todd smiled, even though he was a little disturbed at this. Whatever it was felt really important, but whenever he tried to force the memories, he just pulled up a blank or the feeling of being inside the schism. "I guess that means he was right, right?"

"I ... suppose it does." Pepito forced another smile, giving Todd's hand a squeeze before following Zim and the others to the lift and then to another part of the base.

Several twists and turns down a purple, metal hall later, they arrived at a large, box-like door that opened at the sides, and sealed shut with audible pressure and locking bolts after they passed through. Dib took in their surroundings carefully, memorizing everything that he could in case he ever ended up being held here. He was actually kind of offended that he never had been. Didn't Zim consider him a worthy adversary?

"Alright, Earth monkeys," Zim finally stopped in front of another, smaller room with a one way mirror allowing those outside to see inside where the 'wuv bear' that Shmee now resided in was being held in a clear, shatterproof cage that also carried an energy current, just in case, "this is it! Only Zim and the Squeak will go inside to question the anaphasic pest because he will be more cooperative that way. You all just get to sit and watch! And what amazing watching it shall be!"

"But-" Dib started to interrupt.

"No! No butts for you, Dib-thing! Now, point your enormous head toward the mirror and watch! And _feel honored_!" Zim's middle finger pressed a series of numbers into a security lock, prompting the doors to slide open. "Inside, Squeaky-human! And don't touch anything!"

"Alright, alright, I'm going, Zim, jeez." Todd rolled his eyes as he was urged forward a little too forcefully. After being lightly pushed into the room, he stepped up to the cage to stare at the pink bear.

"He can't move or talk in that containment of sicky hyuman creation, so you'll have to communicate with him telekinetically." Zim informed the unknowing Squeak offhandedly as he locked them in.

"That shouldn't be a problem."

Zim's smile grew as the lock clicked into place, and he spoke in a low, highly pleased voice that wasn't directed at the Squeaky child at all. "Excellent. Computer! Execute command 3-6-5-8-3-5-1-2!"

"Oh, no!" Dib's voice rang out behind the mirror just before there was a small flash of energy in the small room. That smile! That voice! Zim was up to no good again!

"What? What's happening?" Letta started to shake again. She was going to need anti-stress meds after this, she just knew it.

"They're gone! There's nothing in there!" Shit, shit, shit! Dib face-palmed. He should have known better than to trust Zim with something this important!

"That little fucking traitor! How do we get in there?" Gaz approached the door, nearly vibrating with anger. Zim would pay! Oh, how Zim would pay! She was going to make him wish that she was never born more than anyone ever had before!

"I don't know! We need the combination!" Dib's lip quivered in a way that it hadn't since middle skool. If only he had his lap top to hack into Zim's computer!

"You think he's with Bitters?" The question was simple, and Pepito's voice was deadly serious.

Gaz slammed her fist uselessly against the metal of the door before turning back around. "Where the hell else would he be!"

He gave the door another hard stare before turning to go. "Then that's where I'm going." Enough was enough. It was time for Zim to fucking die.

* * *

END CHAPTER!

Notes:

**--**Amazing Beta: EtherealJade from Deviant Art

--The name of this chapter is the name of the fic because this is kind of where the name is supposed to start making more sense. :) And it is a Blakean reference.

--Perimeter, you are right about the colloid being a dilatant colloid, and I am adding that in now. Thanks for your comments!

--"Problems in living" is a reference to the social constructionist view of, sociologist, Allan V. Horwitz in his book Creating Mental Illness, which is "a scholarly critique of our classification of mental disorders. Horwitz begins by stating boldly that many so-called mental disorders according to our current symptom-based system of classification, are not really mental disorders at all, but normal responses to social stress, relationship problems, work or other problems in living, or social deviance that may be in some cases, culturally supported."

--Word of the day: The adjective _Stygian_ means "of or relating to the River Styx", and may also refer to anything that is dark and dismal.

--Just to avoid any confusion, the Styx was guarded by Phlegyas in most older versions of the myths, though Charon was the ferryman in some stories. But this is not supposed to be the actual Styx and there aren't multiple rivers like in Hades/Hell (where both ferrymen worked). I chose the allusion to Charon instead of Phlegyas because the depictions of Charon have been more in line with Hatey than those of Phlegyas.

--Squee's pov on Thanksgiving (and a lot of related things) that Shmee mentioned comes from the Squee comic titled "another valuable lesson" in which he wonders how Columbus discovered America if there were already people there. Basically, I scrape the barrel of the cannon material, over analyze it, then make the meaning more sophisticated as the characters get older. I did this with Dib too. Most of his political beliefs in this fic come from one little exchange from Tak, the Hideous New Girl:

Tak: "The great thing about your people, Dib, is that most of them don't notice. All they see is another faceless corporate venture, not a plan for world conquest." Dib: "Wait, is there really a difference?" I'm thinking this may mean Dib has some negative feelings about capitalism and cares about things like fair trade, sweet shops, corporate raiding, ethical consumerism, etc. He may also have some fears that humans will one day become like Irkens, even if he does save them: obsessed with economic expansion at the cost of lives and freedom of others, lazy and in love with convenience to the point of merging with computers so as to do less of their own thinking and less work. Gaz would probably remind him of this fear even more than Zim as she is obsessed with snacking and video games.

--"Fear is the oldest and strongest emotion of mankind." is a quote by H. P. Lovecraft.

--Little Boy Lost is a poem by William Blake. A lot of the conversation between Squee and Shmee in the nightmare-verse was inspired by the song "Pet" by A Perfect Circle. I know a lot of people think of Nny and Squee with that song, but to me it sounds more like the relationship that Shmee and Squee have. Nny is the boogeyman.

-- "dead things move slow!" and " Dead things don't move fast. You're a corpse, for Christ's sakes. If you run that fast, your ankles are gonna snap off." are quotes from George Romero's Diary of the Dead.

--The term "untempered schism" is borrowed from Doctor Who and Pepito's reflection on those who experience it running away, becoming inspired or going insane is a twist on what the Doctor explains about the Gallifreyan children that were exposed to it for initiation as Time Lords. Even so, the idea of what the untempered schism is was not taken from Doctor Who (but I think it's basically the same thing in Who too). It is related to what Pepito explains about astral projection and the nature of the multiverse back in chapter nine.

--Quotes by William Blake:

-"_I rest not from my great task! / To open the eternal worlds, to open the immortal eyes / Of man inwards into the worlds of thought."_

-"Does a firm persuasion that a thing is so, make it so?" / "All poets believe that it does, and in ages of imagination this firm persuasion removed mountains; but many are no longer capable of a firm persuasion of anything." This is almost a direct quote of William Blake from A Memorable Fancy.

- "Destruction perfects that which is good; for good cannot appear on account of that which conceals it….by element of fire all that is imperfect is destroyed or taken away."

--By now it's pretty obvious (because I've cited all those quotes) that Todd's visitor was Blake. The "Beast" during his time is supposed to be Napoleon (who, coincidently, is often listed as one of the Antichrists in the prophecies of Nostradamus, with Hilter being another-see the wrath for oppression reference?). I do not own William Blake (he owns me); he is just my favorite poet. He is also one of the most complex poets, and my interpretation of his beliefs is not the only one (but I hold a firm persuasion that it is the correct one lol). Also, obviously, I added the stuff about him identifying as the Prophet and the administration and all that, in much the same way that Blake reinterpreted Christianity. Though it's not important that the read know this (or even that it was Blake) at this point, it will become more obvious later.

--The Bible of Hell: In The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, Blake says "I have also the Bible of Hell, which the world shall have whether they will or no." W. B. Yeats, who collected and published some of Blake's unpublished work for the first time, claims that "there is record too of a Bible of Hell, and of this the title page remains" and that when Blake's wife died a few years after he did, she left his unpublished and unfinished works to a good friend by the name of Tatham, who gave up two days to their burning because he thought them inspired by the Devil. The Marriage of Heaven and Hell is amazing btw:

http / www. levity. com/alchemy/blake ma. Html (without spaces)

--The Beast and the False Prophet really are two different people/symbols in Revelations. And I need to give credit to ladyyatexel (the writer of SWAN) for accidentally planting the idea of Todd being the False Prophet in my twisted brain. There is a song that plays in Pepito's house in her story, Blue by Birthday Massacre, with the lyrics "You supply the rumors and I'll provide the wrath". Then I was thinking about writing more of Wrath and Love, wondering how I could possibly make Todd Jesus with his character (and Shmee's), and then it hit me. He fits the "false" Prophet much more.

--The part where Blake is talking about the Odyssey is a paraphrase of a part of the introduction to Edith Hamilton's Mythology.

--Squee and Invader Zim characters belong to Jhonen Vasquez.


	15. Chapter 15

**Sublime Awakenings Chapter Fifteen: Metamorphoses**

**

* * *

**Warnings: Strong Language, violence, implied deaths

* * *

Todd's body felt all tingly and his mind felt disoriented, that small flash of light and energy and Zim's maniacal laughter replaying over and over. Or was Zim actually still laughing? He shook his head, which had the opposite affect of what he had hoped, before turning around, away from Shmee and his new, pink form. Zim was, indeed, still laughing, but everything behind him had changed. They were no longer enclosed in the tiny metal room.

Instead, they were surrounded by various connected, curved bars, which, if the blue energy spikes were any indication, still seemed to be cooling down from their last operation. Beyond that, there was a large lab with many computer terminals, operating tables, suspended animation chambers, some of which contained human specimens, and, most revealing, an array of clear cages with orange, glowing energy beings inside.

"Yes! I have done it! Ziiim has done it! Victory for Zim! And soon an even greater victory!" Zim broke off his mini celebration to face the Squeak with a smirk when he turned a furious glare on him.

The smirk grew as a marvelously evil piece of code crept from his pak, up his spinal cord and into his superior brain, and a gloved hand rose to remove his contacts and wig, revealing his ruby red eyes and bald, green head, two black lekku raised above it. "Are we _surprised_, human? Normally, Zim would sympathize, what with you're having been a victim of my amazing chameleon-like ability to blend in with the hideousness native inhabitants of such _pathetic_ planets as yours. However, the Dib-thing has been trying to warn you and the rest of this sink town for years! And now that you see, too late, that he was right, how do you feel, miserable, squealy fool?"

Still staring the alien down, Todd could feel his hands fisting, shaking, nails digging into his palms. He couldn't remember ever having been this angry. He couldn't even force himself to grit out any words. And then Zim turned his back on him, casually even, as he made his way out of the contraption that they were in, and all he could think was 'kill him'. But he didn't. The commitment to not turn out like Johnny was still too strong.

Zim passed a couple of containment units, still seeing no sign of Bitters, before turning back around to address the Squeak again. "What, no words? Still in shock, eh? Well, allow me to inform you that you are now a captive of the Iorkian that you know as Ms. Bitters. I know nothing of her plans for you, so don't bother asking." Tilting his head to the side, he seemed to reconsider that last statement as his pak fed him the terms of his agreement with Bitters. "She'll probably take you into space with another one to four percent of your species soon ... if you survive whatever tests she wanted you for in the first place. It's something to do with that energy blob that you call 'Shmee' going insane." He shrugged offhandedly. What happened to this stink-creature was no longer his concern.

Finally calming down enough to allow himself to move, Todd slowly closed the distance between himself and Zim. "Why?" Of all of the things that he wanted to ask, wanted to scream at the bug-eyed little creep, _that_ was the best he could do?

"Why what, human?"

"Why are you doing this, Zim! What are you getting out of it!" Todd spared a short look at the nearest containment chambers, seeing two familiar figures floating in a clear, blue liquid with some sort of black nozzle attached to their mouths, possibly for breathing. "And _why_ are my parents here?"

"Ohhhh, that. It's all very simple, actually, even for someone possessing such a merger processing unit as your hymun brain. The Iorkian race currently holds the claim to planet Earth, but after they get what they want, which happens to be living snack food for the Veelobs here," he gestured to the orange, glowing beings in their own containment fields on the opposite side of the lab, "they will leave me, Zim, in complete control. As for your parental units, they are merely insurance. If, for some inconceivable reason, Zim failed to deliver you, then perhaps these smelly morons would suffice."

With a large smile, Zim leaned against the containment tube behind him, resting his elbow against a circular, black button. "So, any more questions before I leave you to your doomy fate?"

"Todd? Todd! I knew it would be you!"

Zim jumped at the sound, then turned around to face the tube that held the Squeak's struggling male parental unit. His gargled voice emanated from a speaker at the top of the tube, and a green light flashed on and off where Zim had accidentally turned it on when his elbow had pushed the button.

"I knew it! As soon as you moved back in, the weirdness started up again! And now! Now I'm looking at you talking to another goddamn alien! Your crazy is infectious, and you are going back to the insane asylum as soon as I get out of this ... this ... tube thingie! And if there are any _chickens_ involved in this delusion, then so help me, I will find the most horrible, piece of shit institution that will take your sick ass!"

Todd cringed as dreamlike memories of killing the couple before him flooded his brain, reminding him that this man was all too similar to the one that had so often incited his own murder. Similar, yes, but not the same. Not so much cruel, but weak. These people were weak: too weak to handle the truth, too weak to face up to the responsibility of raising a child that their actions had brought into the world. "Uh, chickens? If this isn't real, then why are you even talking to me?"

"Because this is all your fault! If you had never been born, my life would be perfect! I could have done so much! I could have-"

"Shut up!" Todd was only slightly surprised when Zim's voice rang out with his own. Apparently there was only so much self-pitying denial that _anyone_ could take. Even someone as naturally annoying as Zim.

Zim gave the button another push, turning off the speaker before the monkey-man could continue his useless drivel. If they were in his own glorious base, he would send GIR for some chickens right about now. His smile returned at the thought. "Where were we? Oh, yes. So, you got anymore questions?"

"Umm. Just one. Do you really think that Bitters is going to follow through on her promises? What if she's just using you the way you were using us? From what you just told me, it seems like she's the one with all of the power."

Zim's eyes bulged a little as he was taken aback by Squeak's suggestion, but within seconds the possibility took a back seat to his ego, which, quite rightly, might have rivaled even the Dib's big head in size. "Fool! No one is more powerful that the Almighty Zim! Bitters will deliver; oh she _will_ deliver or Zim will-"

"Or you'll do what, Zim?"

"Eh?" Turning on the heels of his boots, Zim came face to face with the very subject of his declaration! Of course, she had to lean down to pull the position off, but unlike when the Dib did it, he did not feel his spooch twist in a sickly heat. Instead, he felt his skin crawl like it had been invaded by deadly space parasites, and he instantly stepped back. "Nothing! Absolutely nothing!"

"Wrong answer, Zim, as usual." Bitters narrowed her eyes behind already narrow glasses as the wrinkles on her forehead creased in the frustration that this defective being always seemed to create. "The _correct_ answer is that you'll do exactly what I tell you to do, or I will obliterate your base and leave you stranded here on this miserable chunk of dirt."

"Yes, Ms. Bitters!" The response was automatic, as was the salute that accompanied it. Anything to get her off his case and out of his personal Zim-space.

"Good. Now subdue the child so that I may run some tests on both him and Shmee. It is vital that I know why this _horrible_ situation came about." Finally, she leaned back, away from the Irken, but continued to glare at both him and Todd. They were two of her least favorite students, but for almost opposite reasons.

"Very well." Zim breathed out a relieved sigh before turning back to the Squeak, dispensing another mini robot bee from his pak. "Prepare yourself, wormbaby, for emanate _napping_! Napping of doom!" He looked briefly back to Bitters. "He will wake up, right?" Otherwise it wouldn't really be a nap.

"Zim! Stop!" Todd raised both hands a defensive posture, backing up slowly. "Think about the kind of position that you're putting yourself in here!"

"Silence, Squeaky-worm! You can not change the mind of Zim! My mind is unchangeable!"

"Is that supposed to be a good thing?" When Zim started another retort, he took off toward the machine that had transported them there in forced hopes of somehow escaping before anything else happened to his brain. Sadly, this plan died only seconds after it hatched from an egg whose shell had always been too thin when Zim leaped forward, grabbing him roughly by the arm.

"No! No you don't!" After having to chase GIR around for over five years, dealing with a frightened Earth-smeet was no trouble for Zim at all. "And on my home planet, Irk, yes, it _is_ a good thing!"

Todd felt the anger bubble back to the surface, face flushing red as he turned around to face Zim again. "Let me go, Zim."

"Not on your sad little life, human!" Zim twisted the arm that he was already holding when the other fist flew straight for his face, grabbing it as well before flipping the boy over his head. When he landed on his back, on the floor, his frail human neck was met with a mighty Irken boot. "Robot Bee! Sting him!"

Flailing beneath the pressure of Zim's boot, Todd realized that he had seriously underestimated the tiny alien's strength. Maybe all of this _was_ his fault for underestimating Zim in other ways as well, for not joining Dib in his mission to expose him, for stopping Pepito from taking his soul, for trusting him at all. There was a painful stinging on his neck before he became even more dizzy. He felt rubbery, three-fingered hands lift him under his armpits as he fell unconscious once again.

-------------------------SCENE SHIFT------------------------

The deep blue land rover screeched to a halt in front of 1428 Elm Street, and Dib watched Pepito clamor out of the passenger side door before following swiftly himself. They had dropped Letta off at the corner police station on the way, along with Gaz to make sure that their will was carried out, to report the kidnapping, so now it was just the two of them. GIR was with the girls because they couldn't persuade him to remain at Zim's base and he couldn't be trusted to come along on their mission. Plus, he might lend some credulity to the whole 'abducted by aliens living among us' claim.

"Pepito, wait!" Dib scurried up the sidewalk to catch up before Pepito did anything hasty. "The whole house was hooked up to some kind of crazy, electroshock system when Zim and I broke in last time, so we-"

"So nothing." Pepito's hands clenched at his sides as his body was charged with energy. He had no time for such trivial, mundane concerns at the moment. He stopped just in front of the large, oak door before giving it a powerful kick, which ended in a small, fiery explosion as the door fell flat onto the floor inside the house.

Dib's eyes widened at the destructive show. The system must have shorted out! "Zim's nanos must have caused some major damage to the whole security system if Bitters hasn't been able fix it completely."

A few isolated flames had a cackle at Dib's expense as they fed on the remains of the door that Pepito stepped onto. "Yes. I'm sure that's it. Now, where is her base?"

"This way." Stepping around the smoldering door and to the right, Dib led the way through the foyer and into the living room. It was dark and dusty with old furniture that had probably been there when the house was purchased: unused, just like last time. When he reached the closet against the back wall, he leaned beside it with his hand on the door knob at the ready. "This is it. Follow my lead."

"But the kitchen is just on the other side of the wall!" Pepito whispered as loud as he thought a whisper was allowed to go.

"I know! I know. It's weird, but just trust me." After waiting for Pepito to comply, Dib took a deep breath and threw the door open. He was met with the same broom closet that had been there last time, but he wasn't fooled! "It's the same hologram, come on!"

Pepito rushed into what appeared to be a broom closet directly after Dib, only to have the door to what was _actually_ a broom closet slam closed behind him. His eyes narrowed as he heard several automatic locks slide into place. "Dib."

"No! This wasn't a closet! It was an alien base! It _was_!" He gave the wall in front of him a few hard punches, just to make sure. Metal. It was a metal box, and they were locked in. He tried to call Gaz with his communicator, but the signal didn't make it past the walls of the closet.

"Are you _certain_?" It didn't take long for Pepito's eyes to adjust to the meager glow coming from one side of the closet enough to identify the source as an alien looking equivalent to the cheep push lights that his mother liked to buy at the local Stall Mart, but he had to pause for a full minute of deep breathing exercises to make sure he wouldn't punch the thing with enough force to shatter it when he finally turned it on.

"Yes." When a dull blue light filled the small, dusty space a few moments later, Dib cringed at the obvious anger on his face, looking instead to the source of light. To tell the truth, he wasn't really sure how afraid he should be of Pepito. True, he had never seen him bully anyone else or even get into so much as a fist fight at skool, but there was still the fact that people who really got on his bad side had a tendency to disappear. Maybe there was some kind of secret, hi skool mafia? Nah. Now he was just being paranoid. There was no need to resort to such silly theories when he knew good and well that there was a perfectly paranormal explanation for everything ... if he looked for it hard enough.

Pepito released a huff before leaning back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. Now all they had to do was wait for the girls to arrive with the police and let them out. "Goddammit! This time delay is unacceptable! And who knows if they're even on this wretched property anymore!" He glared angrily at the closet around him, eyes passing over an unused broom before retracing their path. "And what the Hell is this!" His hand darted out to rip a folded piece of paper from the handle to which it had been taped. "Oh, look, it's for you. How very surprising."

When Pepito held it out to him, Dib gripped the notebook paper with trembling hands. This was it: proof that Zim had set the whole thing up, that betrayal had been his plan all along. Why was that even surprising? This was _Zim_ he was talking about!

_To the Dib-beast,_

_As you have surely discovered by now, this was a trap. I, ZIM, have bested you once again! And now you just get to sit there and contemplate how utterly, magnificently SUPERIOR I truly am! See yet? Do you SEE?_

_Anyway, yes, this is a diversion. Bitters has moved her base elsewhere, and I have made a deal with her, whereby I shall receive the Earth in exchange for that crazed energy being and the Squeaky-child. Bitters is going to be taking a certain percentage of the human population with her when she leaves, BUT NOT TO WORRY, DIB-WORM! I have made it astoundingly clear that you are my property and are to remain with ZIM, at my mercy! Amazing, no?_

_So, just rest your enormous, excruciatingly heavy head on the cushions that may be found in the corner of the closet, and I will be with you after the transactions are completed._

_LUV,_

_ZIM: Conqueror of Earth! _

Dib could feel his eyes growing larger as he reread the last of the letter. He spared a fleeting look to the corner of the closet, where there were indeed a couple of pillows ... except that one of them was actually an extra large oval dog bed big enough for a German Shepperd lie on! Unlike everything else in Bitters' house, they were clean, meaning that Zim had supplied them himself. Weird. And that signature ... also weird. "Love. It says love. Why does it say love?" His voice shook. Surely that was a joke, right? Zim hadn't suffered head trauma recently, had he? Or maybe pak trauma would do it.

"Oh, I don't know, because he's your freakish, alien boyfriend and he fucking loves you?" Pepito rolled his eyes before plopping down on one of the pillows with his knees drawn up to his chest.

"He is _not_ my boyfriend! And he does not _love_ me! He _hates_ me! We hate each other!"

"Oh, please, not denial in a closet." Pepito's fingers found their way to his temples. "Please, it's too cliché." Although, when he chose to store all of his Satanic paraphernalia in his walk-in, he had fancied it ironic.

"I'm not in denial, Pepito! And I am not in love with an alien invader! That's just disgusting and wrong! We're not the same species! Or even from the same biogenesis! And Zim is completely evil!"

Pepito's eyes narrowed once again, and this time he hoped that they weren't actually glowing. If Dib was any more in denial, the moron would be fighting off fucking hippos! And though there was nothing he could say about it, those last comments he found highly offensive, largely because he was a product of such a union ... or at least something very similar to it. "Well, if you hate him so much and he is 'oh so very evil', then why is it that you've yet to turn him in or kill him?"

"Because no one will believe me, and the people that do don't care! Just yesterday, _you_ told me that 'Zimmy' wasn't a threat! None of my plans to prove that he's an alien ever work out because other people don't want them to. And I can't just kill him. I need him as proof. The world has to wake up and smell the freakishly stupid aliens that are always trying to invade it. It's not like Zim has been the only one! Or even the most dangerous one." Something twisted in the pit of Dib's stomach as he went on, knowing that he was exaggerating some points to further himself from the possibility of actually having some kind of fondness for the betraying alien, at the same time reminding himself that he _had_ liked an Irken before. But that had been different. He had believed that she was human at the time.

"Zim isn't really much of a threat ... on his own." Looking away for a moment, Pepito conceded, if only to himself, that Dib had a point. "But don't worry, I'll help you catch him when we get out of here, though I can't guarantee that I'll hand him over alive."

"But I just said-"

"I don't care." No one fucked with the people he cared about and lived. Not unless he could make their life worse than he could make their death anyway, which usually wasn't the case in his particular situation. But Zim was probably an exception.

"Look, why don't you just let me handle-"

"No. Nothing you can say is going to change my mind about this."

"Ahg! You can't just decide after all this time that-"

Pepito hid his face in his hands, appearing to desire to avoid the conversation, which was true enough, but also wanting to make sure that he didn't accidentally let the paranormalist in on his biggest secret. When it came to keeping his infernal nature out of the path of perceiving third eyes, anger was not his friend. "Shut up, Dib. This isn't up for debate."

"Fine! Jerk!" This was ridiculous! Zim was _his_ enemy! If anyone was going to take him out, it was going to be Dib! Even if it meant saving him from Pepito and then killing him!

"That was original." Pepito signed heavily into his hands. He would have thought that having his best friend released from that horrible institution would make him happy, but this was shaping up to possibly be the worst week of his life. Luckily, Dib remained silent after that. He used the silence to enter into an altered state and thereby contact his father with their new predicament. He also tried to reach Todd, but there was nothing. That was a very bad sign and, though the boy was wearing a key that he really wasn't allowed to loan out, he still felt his eyes beginning to water.

About fifteen minutes later, he was startled out of his near despair by a loud banging. When the banging turned into sawing, he and Dib both moved to the very back of the closet, shielding themselves as best they could with the pillows. Eventually, the grinding sounds ceased, and two firefighters helped them out of the closet.

A red-headed police sergeant stepped forward to peer into the closet after the boys were hustled out of the way. "Eh! There's no secret holding cell in there! It's just a closet, like I said it would be!" He turned back to the two teenage girls with the strange, green dog expectantly.

"Well, it was _holding_ them, wasn't it?" At least she hadn't told them that the kidnappers were actually aliens. Still, Gaz's hands fisted as she rounded on her newly freed bother. "Dib! You will _pay_ later for making me look as stupid as you! Where is Squee?"

Shaking his head roughly to indicate the lack of knowledge that he couldn't bring himself to communicate, Dib pressed Zim's note into Gaz's hand as he brushed by her on the way out of the house.

Her eyes narrowed at the note dangerously, as if she could set it on fire by sheer will, and Pepito was tempted to do it for her, but it was proof that Zim was a kidnapper and possibly a terrorist, if nothing else. "They moved the base. We need to comb the city. Check all the abandoned houses, warehouses, anywhere that wouldn't be noticed."

Sending him a warning look that went largely unnoticed, the sergeant turned back to his officers. What was _with_ these kids thinking they were in charge! The purple-haired one gave him _that_ look again. "You heard him, people! We will break down into teams, each team taking a section of the city! We will check all abandoned housing!" The man strode from the Victorian house, still yelling commands.

-------------------------SCENE SHIFT------------------------

Todd groaned low in his throat, blinking away the double vision that first greeted him as his foggy mind tried to pry what it desperately hoped was fantasy away from something else that failed to materialize as reality. Shit. This wasn't a dream. He hadn't even had any dreams, just a blank void of nothing from the moment the tranquilizer had entered his system. And now he was in his very own containment tube, but this one held no liquid. His arms were suspended above his head by some kind of metal cuffs that attached to the top of the chamber, and his feet were barely dragging the ground.

"_Todd! Keep quiet! They don't know you're awake yet!"_

The voice was in his head, but somehow he knew to look to his left, where Shmee was in a different sort of enclosure and once again free of his bear form. "_Shmee, what's happening?"_

_"Nothing much. Just a bunch of tests. You're not supposed to be awake yet, but they're finished with you anyway. Bitters said that she only has a few more with me." _The energy being's mental voice was full of cautious optimism. "_Relax, my boy! These tests will document the changes that have taken place within us both since that fantastic, high energy experience that we shared! And then the findings can be used to pave a whole new path of energy feeding for my people, and instead of just causing fear, we can be as a type of spiritual guide to the sublime!"_

"What? Why?" There it was again! That swirling vortex, all that possibility, all that oneness. Shmee's last words sent a shiver down his spine.

"_Shh. Not out loud. They'll hear us and put you under again. Because of that experience we are both changed, and I now possess the knowledge of a more rewarding way for my people to get the energy that we need. Bitters' tests will just confirm the technical details for her people, and then you and I will lead the way." _

"_... oh."_ Licking dry lips, Todd forced himself to stand and gain his bearings the best he could before looking up at the cuffs again. He managed a small smirk. They didn't look very advanced, and he had a fair amount of experience with various kinds of restraints thanks to the D.H.M.I. Taking a few deep breaths, he pulled his legs up, walking on the side of the tube and pushing up and off so that he was hanging upside down by the cuffs.

"_Todd, what are you doing?"_ His words were once again condescending, but not so biting as before.  
"_Trying to get out of here. You're", _he paused for another breath, "_assuming way too much, Shmee. And I'm not just going to magically start trusting you again."_ Bending his thumbs as far in, against he rest of his hand, as they would go, he placed his feet firmly against the top of the tube before pushing off as hard as he could. Teeth clenched tightly as the joints in his thumbs snapped out of place and the bottom of the containment unit hit his upper back when he fell. Normally, he could use his other hand or a flat surface to push the thumbs aside, but his position this time had not allowed that.

Shmee shook his head at the actions. "_I hate it when you do that popping thing."_

"_And you think I enjoy it? My life just calls for it ... a lot." _Todd moved the thumbs around a couple times, feeling the pain subside. His hands were a little chaffed, but not much worse for wear. It was nothing compared to getting out of a straight jacket.

"_Would it help if I were to apologize?"_

"_Not unless you really were sorry, so don't bother."_ Slowly, he stood back up on even weaker legs, examining the chamber for a possible method of escape.

Shmee sighed. "_You know, it's not entirely my fault that your life has turned out the way it has. If that girl had never-"_

"_Don't, Shmee, just don't. We've already been over this. It wasn't Letta's fault, and that's the end of it. And it's not even like the problems started there. Think about why I was sent to the institution in the first place." _

"_Because you told those moronic aliens to take your parents instead? How was _that _my fault, humm?"_

"_That part wasn't your fault, but why did they come to _my _house in the first place? Probably because your stupid trauma sponginess brought them there."_

"_Fine, fine. Then it was partly my fault. All of this is: the good along with the bad." _

Todd sent him a mild glare for still thinking that this was somehow _good_. Sure, that bit with the vortex had been interesting, but overall, good was _not_ what this was. And there was no way out of the stupid tube!

"_Besides, my boy, if not for me, you might never have-"_ His words died abruptly as a Bitters reentered the room, her black boots clacking in a fast paced rhythm against the lab floor.

Zim tagged along with a bored expression. These tests were tiresome! He hadn't signed up for this! The Dib was going to be irritable after having been locked up in a closet for so very long too, and GIR was probably tearing the top layer of his base to shreds! "Sooo ... are we done here?"

"No, Zim. No, we're not, you pathetic, useless excuse for an Invader! But don't worry. I'll let you get back to your little human 'love'," she paused to repress feelings of the utmost revulsion, "-slave soon enough. One more series of tests and this operation will be complete."

Todd closed his eyes tightly when Bitters' gaze ran over Shmee and himself as carelessly as if they were week old roadkill. She was still in her teacher disguise. That was kind of odd.

"Well, Shmee, I have completed all of the necessary tests on you and this human boy and have come to the conclusion that you are both malfunctioning _horribly_. So, I've decided to put Todd down and find a new, more permanent home for you."

"_What? There must be some kind of mistake! Those problems that we had before weren't caused by that experience! If anything, my energy pattern has become more stable than ever before!"_

"Yes, well, that may well be, but stable energy patterns don't sell planets, do they? You see, Shmee, I'm afraid that I've been working this case for a long, long dreary time and I am _sick_ of it. Do you know how many monies it would cost to restructure the entire contract with your people when taking these changes into account? How much time, effort and resources would have to be redirected? You race might not even be interested in purchasing other sentient peoples anymore! Do you know what that would do to _my_ race's profit margin! It's entirely unacceptable. And since I can't have you dying on me and taking all this knowledge back to the Veelob collective, we're going to try something _new_ with you."

Shmee could both feel and see the soft blue glow that surrounded him folding in, closer to his inner form, at those words. This was all wrong! It wasn't supposed to happen this way! "W-what would that be?"

"Computer, bring me the victim child." Bitters' smiled, but knew that in the human guise, it would come out as a sneer. There was no reason for her human counterpart to smile-ever. It was hard enough for her true form to do so.

Todd's eyes shot open at her last words as he deemed playing asleep no longer very helpful. "Victim child?"

Bitters turned an angry glare on Zim. "Zim, _why_ is Todd no longer unconscious?"

"How should I know! Zim is no medical drone!" His posture straighted quickly as the Iorkian advanced on him. "I mean, eh, the sedative that my amazing robot bee administered should have kept him out for another good hour, Sir!"

Making a sound between a hiss and a growl, Bitters backed off, looking Todd over again. "It's all that time in the mental institution. He must have developed a tolerance, like the female." She glared back at the tubes where Todd's despicable parents resided. Neither of the two were unconscious at the moment, but she had tested them both extensively the previous night.

"Bitters, I urge you to rethink this! Todd and I can be a very valuable asset to your people!"

"Silence, fool! Your fates have already been decided!" She paused to look up as a system of transportation tubes carried a small containment unit in from another room. The chamber was lowered just above the nearest operating table where a small boy was deposited. He moved about, yawning and smacking his lips, obviously drugged and not quite awake. "Excellent. Now, raise the electromagnetic compression tank."

Breath coming faster at the sight of a tinted, but mostly transparent structure rising from somewhere inside the table to conceal the boy, Todd moved closer to the glass-like material of his own prison. "What are you doing! You can't just-Zim! Are you just going to stand there while she does something horrible to that little kid?"

"Why, yes, stink-beast, yes, I am. Zim cares nothing for such lowly creatures as yourself and this Earthen larva."

"Quiet, Zim!" Bitters turned back to her captives. "Todd always was an inquisitive one. Always thinking, always _questioning_ my rules, the skool, the text books. Well, Todd, you'll be pleased to know that I've decided to use this particular subject on your account. His mother and grandfather, two truly _nothing_ humans who ran some pitiful excuse for a", another pause to shudder, "'burger' establishment, were in an unfortunate, highly _convenient_ accident some months back. They were both brutally maimed."

She smiled to assure the retched teenager that whatever terrible truths that he was sure lurked behind the excuse were correct. "I was able to recover the boy and fake the details of the family's 'move' without raising suspicion. He has no family left, none except for one man that I believe you know as well as anyone could hope to, so he should be a prime subject for this next experiment."

Todd felt a strong mixture of anger and sorrow building more and more as she went on. He had no idea who she could be talking about, but everything else, what she had done to that kid and his family, was crystal clear.

"You still don't get it, do you? Think boy, think very hard. This vermin is the offspring of someone you know."

Giving the tinted tank a hard, penetrating stare, Todd still had no real clue. The boy looked like he probably had some Latin American heritage, but that was fairly common where they lived. Still, the only people that he could possibly be said to know 'as well as anyone could hope to' where-no. Pepito had probably slept with a lot of people, but that boy had to be seven or eight years old. It wasn't possible. But that only left one other person. He felt like his brain was going to shutdown before even considering that as a possibility.

"It's that stupid neighbor of his! What are you planning?"

"I'll tell you, Shmee-"

"No. No, it can't be. It just ... isn't possible. Nny would never. He ... he _can't_ have any children!" The words slipped from Todd's mouth in a daze, surprising even himself, though he knew that he believed them.

"I am afraid, child, that it _is_ possible. I have had Johnny C.'s DNA on file for eight years now, ever since he spoke to Shmee in your dwelling unit. And I have kept watchful eyes on him." Bitters' eyes roamed over the containment units of the energy beings. "His DNA shows much promise for my endeavors, but you humans have proven somewhat ... difficult to grow to a useful age in lab settings. I have had failures with both his clones and his genetic offspring. Luckily, even _he_ is not _completely_ immune to the largely doomed and futile need to pass on his traits."

Todd still looked confused, but she plowed on nonetheless. "As I was saying, this boy is a near perfect candidate for my next test. Because I can not afford to let you die, Shmee, and you have recently experienced a connection with this subject's biological father, proving that your energies are compatible, I shall attempt a merger. A _complete_ merger! If it is successful, your energy and this boy's will blend seamlessly. Your consciousness will spread throughout his being, far too thin to be of any influence. Well, in theory. You will live as one being until the day he dies, and by that time, it will be too late."

"Wow. That's a good plan." Zim nodded in approval. "Almost as brilliant as the one I would have come up with!"

"Why, thank you, Zim. Now, we commence with the final test! Computer! Begin the merger!"

Shmee's color paled considerably as his cage was transported by mechanical arms to the compression tank, where it connected with a small hole at the top. As far a he knew, nothing like this had ever been attempted! The thought of dying, of denigrating to billions of tiny energy particles and finding that collective mass that would wrap him safely in the presence of his race, was infinitely more welcome. As it was, that could not be accomplished in this captivity. And there as nothing he could do to save his human either.

"Stop! Bitters, you have to stop! What ... what if he dies!" Todd screamed, banging his his fists against the front of the tube as Shmee was sucked down the small hole, which was then sealed tight. Reasoning hadn't worked with Zim, and it probably wouldn't work with her, but he had to try. "This is just ... just so wrong, so cruel." A tear slide down his cheek as the tank energized. Inside, Shmee turned completely white. His energy arched down, around the child, while the child's energy arched up, mixing. Todd's nails scrapped uselessly against the wall of his prison, serving only as a mild distraction because of the horrible screeching that was produced, his head falling against it in defeat after the light dimmed.

"You humans with your 'fair' and your 'right' and your claims of 'inhumanly cruel' treatment. Well, I hate to shatter your beliefs, but the universe doesn't care about those things. Did you know that chimpanzees will rip the young of their own species literally limb from limb in order to insure that the genes of their own communities are passed on? Those are nature's dictates for your own pitiful world, and they are no different that what I am doing now, for my own people." Bitters smirked at the still living child when the compression tank retreated into the table, the computer announcing that the merger appeared to be a success. "Computer, wake the victim child."

Another robot arm injected the small boy with a syringe, and a few moments later the he was moving again. A hand swatted at what he assumed to be a bug on his arm, and he rolled over, only opening his eyes when he lost balance, nearly falling off of the table. Propping up on elbows, he raised his head to look around the room in sleepy confusion.

"Hello, doomed child," Bitter hissed, stepping closer.

The boy made an epping sound, quickly curling in own himself, when he realized that this wasn't just a weird dream after all. "M-miss Bitters? Where's my mommy? Is this ... the underground classroom!"

"Yes, child, this is the underground classroom. And your 'mommy' is on her way to pick you up right now, _if_, and only if, you comply with an easy series of questions that I am going to ask you."

"Then I can go home?" His hazel eyes grew larger as he gazed around the room at all of the confined people. Had they all been trapped down there when they were his age?

"Correct. Now, who am I?"

"Uh, Miss Bitters. You substitute for Miss Flemmings sometimes."

The teacher nodded. "Who are you?"

The boy cocked his head at the basic questions. Maybe this was like a lie detector test and she needed a base reading before the real questions? Or maybe he had been in an accident? "Leon B. Wian. I'm in the second grade, and my favorite color is blue."

"Very good, Leon. Now, who is this boy?" She pointed a sharp finger at Todd.

"Ummm." Leon scratched his head of unkempt black locks. "He's ... I don't ... Todd. His name is Todd."

Bitters face was consumed by a victorious smile/snarl until he finally soiled her revelry with his answer. "What! How do you know that?"

Leon hugged himself, shrinking away from his substitute once again. "I dunno. He's just ... Todd. Can I go home now?"

"No! Your knowledge is _unacceptable_! Computer, scan this child's brain for any added sentience since the merger!"

"But!" Metal arms shot out of the table, binding Leon before he could complete his protest. Wires with suction cups attached themselves to his head in several places. He struggled in vain before finally beginning to cry. "I ... I ... just wanna go home!" He sniffed loudly. "I want my mommy! Why? I ... I didn't ... do ... anything."

"Oh, but you did. You questioned my plan, just like Todd here. Didn't you, _Shmee_?" Her eyes narrowed when he only continued to cry.

Todd dropped into a near sitting position inside the tube, trying hard not to cry along with the kid. He had allowed himself to hope, vainly, that after Shmee was recaptured, his life would be better, that stuff like this would stop happening to him and those around him. But that didn't appear to be the case. And now he found himself undecided upon what outcome to even wish for the boy on the operating table. Either way, Bitters wasn't going to let him go. He glared angrily through tears at Zim, who was leaning nonchalantly against a chamber beside his own, drumming his three fingers against his own arm in boredom.

Returning the glare, Zim stuck his mighty Irken tongue out at the pitiful, helpless wormbaby, swirling it in long circles through the air in a very inhuman, and thus superior, manner.

"Analysis complete," the computer announced, "subject's brain contains only one sentient personality. Personality is almost a complete match to previous scans."

"_Almost_ complete? Explain!"

"Subject Shmee has been fused with subject Leon, resulting in subtle changes in subject Leon's brain wave patterns. This is to be expected. There is no evidence to suggest a second personality currently exists."

Bitters grunted, unhappy with the situation, but willing to accept it. It could have been much worse. "Very well."

"Finally!" Zim pushed himself off of the containment chamber, stifling a yawn. "Are we done here _now_?"

"Sure Zim, you can leave." Bitters waited until the pathetic excuse for an Irken Invader was halfway across the room before speaking up again. "But, before you go you might want to watch this."

"Eh?" Zim stopped mid-stride, turning around and marching back to Bitters' side in an irritated manner. He was beginning to think that she enjoyed wasting his precious Zim-time! And he really didn't want to stick around for the Sqeaky-worm's demise.

"Computer, pull up a viewing monitor. Bring up the feed under code name 'moron'."

A black-gloved finger shot out to point at the monitor when Zim's main lab appeared on it. "What! What is the meaning of this!"

"I was talking with the Tallests last night-"

"What is the meaning of this! Tell to Zim!"

"I _said_, I was talking with the Tallests-"

"What is the meaning of this!"

Bitters shook her head in annoyed resolve. "That's it! Computer! Blow it up! Replace Zim's base with _nothing_!"

There was a flash of light and fire, then the feed when to static. Zim dropped to his knees on the cold, metal floor in emotional agony just before a tremor shook the entire base, making the humans in the gel filled tubes wobble back and forth. That meant it was real. His base was gone. Gone! "Nooo! My base! My glorious base!"

"This time it's all gone, Zim. That means you're trapped here. But that's really the least of your problems because I can't have you and that meddlesome Dib conspiring to ruin all my plans, now can I?"

"What! How _dare_ you! The Tallests will not stand for this! I will _find_ a way to contact them and-"

"The Tallests are the ones who asked me to do it! I told them about our arrangement, and they were outraged that I would even _consider_ leaving any amount of power, however meager, in your incompetent hands!" They had also seemed slightly terrified, but there was no reason to mention that understandable truth.

"You lie, teaching drone! Oh, yes, you're going to have to do better than that to fool the mighty Zim!"

"Whatever you say, Zim. Computer! Apprehend the Irken! We'll extinguish his worthless, troublesome life along with Todd's!"

When the robotic arms returned to capture him, Zim jumped into action, dodging them expertly. Metal arms came from his pak to slice through several of them, sending electric sparks flying. This continued for a good five Earth minutes before he finally missed one, his pak arm landing on the manual control panel to the operation table instead. It sliced through that metal as well, sending a shock through his system. He cringed as his pak began the reboot process, sending him tumbling to the floor in the mean time.

"Ha!" Bitters laughed as more arms descended from the ceiling to restrain the fool, "Zim, that was truly miserable!" All he had managed to do was set her back a few robotic arms and release the victim child from his confines, both of which would have no effect and would be easily remedied not long after he was dead.

The mechanical arms took a hold of Zim's ankles and wrists, holding them apart from his body just to the side of Todd's tube. There was still nothing he could do, but at least he wouldn't have to feel as bad for Zim as he would the kid.

"Well, Todd, it looks like you'll at least have the pleasure of watching your betrayer die before you follow yourself. Any requests as to the method?"

He looked down for a moment before forcing himself to talk, "Something fast."

Bitters rolled her false human eyes. "Fine. Somehow, from you, I was expecting something more creative. Com ... com ... pu ... tt ... errr-ack!" Her speech fell apart as she looked down to see a sparking robotic arm protruding from her upper abdomen. She coughed splatters of yellow-green blood that turned a translucent pink after landing on the Irken in front of her. Backing up, she fell against the computer panel on the wall. Her form slumped against it before she spoke once more. "In-in-in-it-iate self ... destruct ..."

"Self-destruct Process initiated! Ten minutes to core meltdown!" The monitor that had previously displayed the destruction of Zim's base flashed a digital countdown from ten minutes, a low graphics rendering of an explosion playing in the background.

Todd's teary eyes widened not just at Bitters' plight, but at what lay behind it: a little boy dripping with pink, alien blood. The boy walked forward, picking up another arm on the way. When he reached the tube, a small hand pressed flat against it. Todd stared at it dumbly before finally pressing his own hand against it as well. "S-shmee?"

He nodded. "I can't keep this up. I can't ... hold my thoughts together. You have to get out of here. This entire base will be destroyed." He backed up a few steps before applying the sparking end of the arm to the panel of Todd's containment unit, kicking it afterward until the transparent sides retreated into the top. As Todd crawled out of the chamber and toward him, he fell over, losing control of the human child as his consciousness refused to stay together enough for actual thought.

"Shmee? Shmeee! Leon?" Todd caught him just as he was about to hit the floor, finding him unconscious. "Shit." He looked up at Zim, who was still being held by the arms, even as his pak shocked him back to life. "Ummm ... computer? Is there a way to stop the self-destruct?"

"Negative. Self-destruct in eight minutes."

"Nooo!" Zim's intact pak legs emerged once again to cut him free of the arms. He spared a quick glare at Bitters' body before running for the computer interface terminal. "Good job, Squeak! Computer, there _has_ to be a way! Tell to Zim! Now!"

"Please enter override code. Self-destruct in seven minutes."

Todd pushed himself up with the kid in his arms, willing his legs to remain steady. "Zim, we have to stop it! All these people-"

"Zim knows this, Sqeaky-human! Make silence now while I use my amazing brain to find a solution!" His hand went to his head, absentmindedly stroking his own lekku in an attempt to calm his nerves. All of those humans in all of those tubes weren't really that important to him personally, but he could really use that base! And if he just left without trying after what he had already pulled, then the Dib would never forgive him. Not that he cared or anything!

Todd lay Leon back on the table, picking up a robotic arm himself to free some of the humans, including his mother, from the gel tubes. Much to his disappointment, most of them weren't conscious and simply lay on the floor like dead fish. His mother actually flopped around ... like a dying fish.

"Self-destruct in five minutes!"

"Mommy, why's it so hot? Is the air conditioner broke again?"

Looking back to Leon, who seemed to be dreaming again, Todd realized that the sweat that now covered his body wasn't just from the stress. The entire room was burning up. "Zim! Why _is_ it so hot?"

"Because, human! The base is going to self-destruct! For covert missions, most races employ self-destruct mechanisms that completely obliterate any evidence that they were ever there!" He looked down at the meager information that he had been able to pry from the computers figurative grip. "This whole base is about to reach several times the temperature of the horrible Earth's sun!"

"That's ... that's really bad! How do we stop it?"

"I, Zim, have an idea! You take that smeet out of here as fast as your pitiful human legs can carry you, and Zim will stop the self-destruct!"

"How!"

"If I stop to explain it, there will be no time to pull it off! Now be gone with you!" Zim sent him a warning glare, and after he had looked around at all of the others on the floor and in the tubes with almost desperate eyes, he finally conceded to the command of Zim.

Todd cringed at how hot it had already gotten when his hand contacted the metal of the table as he scooped Leon into his arms again. "Which way is out?"

"There!" Zim pointed in the opposite direction from which they had entered the base. "Just keep going through that hall, out the only human door, up the stairs, into the old elementary skool and outside! Get as far away from the skool as you can!"

"Three minutes until self-destruct!"

"Good luck, Zim!" Todd took off in a hard run.

"Squee!"

He turned back around impatiently when Zim called his nickname, shocked that he was actually aware of the proper pronunciation at all. "Yeah?"

"Tell the Dib ... tell him that I'm ... that I'm sorry. Tell him that he has been a worthy adversary! And that his head isn't really big!"

There was so much that he wanted to say to that, but instead he gave an intense nod before commencing with the running. He followed the hall for at least a full minute before finally reaching the 'human door' and finding himself at the bottom of a stairwell. One floor up was what he assumed to be the real underground classrooms. Two floors up was the boiling room, and by the time he had made it that far, it was truly boiling. The metal of the floor was melting the gym shoes that he had borrowed from Pepito, and he could hear warning sirens blaring from below.

Leon shifted in his arms, blinking up at him with scared eyes. "Todd? Your name is Todd? Where are we?"

"We're ... don't worry. We're leaving."

"It's hot."

"I know. Here." He kept walking, moving Leon around in his arms enough to pull the long sleeved shirt form his chest with the help of a lot of ripping. He wrapped it around Leon before risking the stairs that would take them to the ground level. Those stairs were steeper than they looked, and he managed to burn his own bare arms and sides several times on the way up, but Leon was probably okay because he wasn't crying out. As he ran through the halls of the elementary skool, toward the double-door front exit, the melted rubber on the bottom of his feet tried to stick to the floor, but was instead mostly left behind in a trail brown strings. The heat was making dirty paint peel off the walls ... or maybe the skool was just in disrepair. There was a loud creaking from somewhere below that he didn't allow himself time to worry about.

When he finally reached the exit, he caused himself great pain by kicking one of the doors open, thus pressing the melting rubber that much more against his socked feet. But they were free! He stumbled haphazardly down the stairs of the skool, past a troubled looking policeman, trying to put as much distance between them and it as he could before he inevitably fell over from exhaustion and maybe passed out from pain. It only occurred to him several yards later that the policemen was in danger too. "Run! _Run_! It's going to blow!"

The policeman turned on his heels, following and then easily catching up with the teen. "You that Casil kid?"

"Yes, but you need to _run_!" Todd winced when the man wrapped a rough hand around his burned upper arm, but was thankful all the same for the faster pace that it gave them.

"Hey! I found him! It's the kid! And some other kid too!" he shouted loudly to the small group that was already running towards them.

"No! No, go the other way!" To Todd's dismay, his own shouts were ignored as two more officers, a firefighter, Pepito and his parents all gathered around him. The firefighter took Leon from his arms, but they still weren't moving. "Run! We have too-"

A loud rumble barely preceded a shook wave that was enough to knock everyone but Señor Diablo and his wife, whom he caught, to the ground. Todd looked back just in time to see the entire skool building collapse in on itself, most of the crumbling material falling below ground to cover what had been Bitters' base and the underground classrooms. A plum of smoke and cinders rose into the air. It was gone, but the explosion was over. They were relativity safe. But all of those people, his parents, Zim. They were all probably dead. He heard Leon crying, heard an officer radioing for help, felt Pepito's arms around him, but he could only manage one more word before finally allowing himself to pass out. "Zim."

Pepito's worried eyes narrowed a little at the word. He looked up at the debris surrounded hole where the old skool used to be. Hopefully that little accursed being was dead. He pulled Todd closer, trying to avoid toughing the, mostly second degree, burns as his mother dropped to her knees beside them.

"We need an ambulance with a medical team!" Rosemary lay a reassuring hand on Pepito's shoulder. "He'll be alright, honey." When he forced a small smile, the hand retreated to pick up a walky-talky that was attached to her emergency help volunteer vest so she could contact Johnny and Elize and then Brian and Letta. Professor Membrane's children had been out of contact for a while now. "Hello. Mr. C.? We've found him. Could you please meet us at the hospital?"

Pepito could already tell that many a human soul had been separated from its body in that place mere moments before. There were, in fact, additional energy signatures, but he couldn't identify them. His father had used the ASE to finally figure out their location after Todd had awoken and that Leon kid had guessed where they were. He had mentioned that there were a number of energy beings in the base, so those signatures could belong to them as easily as Zim. Maybe he didn't even _have_ a soul. Pity.

------------------------------Two Days Later----------------------------

Todd groaned in agony as he reached in vain for the remote to the television in his hospital room. It was on an end table, where it had no doubt been left by Letta the previous afternoon, just out of reach. He had barely gotten a wink of sleep the previous night, even with the painkillers, because of his inability to turn the thing off. He had even tried to press the help button, but was beginning to think that it was disconnected because no nurses had come to his aid. Just as he was about to be forced to walk on his burned foot in order to do it himself, the door to his room swung open.

A perky female doctor with a curly frizz of orange hair was followed closely by a still solemn Brian and Letta. "Well, hello again young man. I've decided to let you go home today! Isn't that just great?"

"Urm," Brian cut in with an abrupt hand gesture. "Actually, Todd won't be going home just yet." He looked from the doctor to the boy. "I'm sorry, Todd, but we still can't find your parents. Now, don't worry, I'm sure they're fine ... wherever they are. But you'll be staying with me for a while since your parents signed a form giving me temporary custody a few years back so that I could take you out of the D.H.M.I every now and then. Remember?"

Todd nodded gravely. He had lied to the police yesterday, when they had finally been allowed to interview him, about the whole incident, telling them that he could barely remember any of it. The tranquilizers in his system had been evidence enough to confirm this, and they had let the matter drop. This, of course, also meant that he had lied to Brian and Johnny and anyone else who didn't already know the truth, both about Bitters and Zim and about what he did and didn't know about Leon Wian. The truth was a double edged sword. It could cut off your legs just as easily as it could break your shackles. In this particular instance, it could send him back the mental institution and put that kid in a great deal of mortal danger.

Leon was currently in a room in the children's wing, recovering from having been sedated for such an extended period of time, and Todd knew that the authorities would be having problems finding his parents as well. "What about-"

"The boy? His ...," Brian looked at the floor as if there was a script that could help him with this issue taped to it, "We can't find his parents either. According to the skool, they moved a few months ago, but there is no record of them ever arriving anywhere else." He didn't want to say it, but this didn't bod well for Todd's parents either. And there was every indication that the little boy's mother and grandfather had actually been fond of him, so they wouldn't just abandon him.

Letta released a deep, worn sigh. "Two months. That's a long time to be missing."

Brian shot her a stern look. "Yes, thank you, dear. Anyway, Todd, Leon seems to be highly attached to you. He's been asking for you nearly as often as he has for his family." It wasn't an uncommon development in extremely stressful situations for those involved to form unusually strong bonds. "The D.H.M.I has offered to put him up, but since I will already be treating you in my home and he is so attached, it has been decided that he will be released into my custody as well, unless you have an objection to this."

"I ... I guess that's fine with me." Todd had to repress a shudder at the thought of living with Leon ... or Shmee ... or some hybrid mixture, and automatically felt bad because of it. It wasn't the kid's fault that he was a freakish alien experiment, possibly gone horribly wrong! Or that his parents were dead. And he, or more precisely Shmee, had saved his life.

"Good. I'm sure it will benefit you both to have group therapy for this terrible ... circumstance." Brian nodded in agreement with his own words, as if assuring himself along with Todd. "It'll do you good, you'll see."

Todd smiled weakly. "Sure."

"Uh, well, Todd," the doctor spoke up, "you'll be released after lunch, so just sit tight and enjoy the Jello until then! Gotta go!"

And then she was gone, much to his relief. "I don't want any Jello. And could one of you turn the TV off, please?"

"That bad?" Brian smiled on his way to do so.

"Reality TV almost makes me wish that an asteroid would strike the Earth and put us all out of our misery." Woah! That had been just a little too blunt. And now Brian was looking at him like he needed more than group therapy. "Umm, I mean I really don't like it."

Brian adjusted his glasses awkwardly as he switched off the source of Todd's scorn, handing the remote over afterward. "I'm going to go tell little Leon the good-urm, the news that he'll be staying with us. Are you two going to be alright?"

"Yeah." Todd forced another smile.

"Of course, Dad. Go on, jeez." When her dad finally left the room, Letta flopped down onto the end of Todd's bed. "Sorry about the TV."

"It's fine ... except that it kept me up ... and gave me weird dreams."

"You always have weird dreams." She cringed at the memories of her experience with his dreamworld. "And anyway that could've been the meds."

"The meds made me dream that Johnny had somehow negotiated a contract with some music bigwigs, resulting in an unholy alliance of Happy Noodle Boy and Billy Joel's Greatest Hits?"

"Ummm ... maybe that was the TV, because I saw the same thing." She thought for a moment. "Noodle on Ice, right?"

"Oh, dear God, no ... it can't be."

"Actually, sorry, but yeah. And Johnny called the house this mourning to offer me, you and Dad free tickets to his show. They're box seats and everything. And I think that he's dating some girl named Elise. I heard them arguing in the background over the phone. It was like five in the morning too, so I guess she had stayed over." Letta grimaced dramatically at the very notion of heterosexual happenings.

Todd let himself fall back onto the pillows a little too heavily. "Ow. I think I've had too much painkillers. Or not enough ... not nearly enough."

"There's no such thing as enough. But at least you didn't have that same dream again."

"I kinda wish I had. I think it might mean something. The last time there was a book."

"Squee, with you, when is it not about a book?" Letta stifled a yawn, not having gotten much sleep herself, thanks in part to Johnny. "So, what do ya wanna do when you get out of here?"

"I think I'd like to stop by the library ..."

"Told ya. Always about a book."

"And then maybe get a haircut. And I need to pick up some stuff from my parents' house." He looked down to the hospital gown that he was currently wearing and then to a chair were Pepito's mother had left him some more borrowed clothes the evening before. But he still didn't have any shoes. "Maybe the house should be first."

---------------------A few hours after lunch-----------------

Dib sluggishly went through the motions of entering his house: unlock the door, up the stairs, bathroom, bedroom, face down on an already salty pillow. For the second day, he had helped the rescue workers search the rumble that had until recently been his much hated elementary skool building. And for the second day, they had found no signs of life, or even death. Not even a pak belonging to his enemy!

He raised his head to gaze at his sister when she poked her head in through the door. "Not today, Gaz."

Gaz rolled her eyes. "I just thought you should know that Squee went home today. He's staying at Brian's now, in case you ever decide to visit him."

"Thanks, Gaz, but I don't have time to do anything else until I find Zim." He forced down a knot in his throat at her expression. "He ... uh ... he really has to pay, you know?"

"Why are you still pretending, Dib? I can hear the fucking tears in you voice, you know." She paused to let the fact that she wasn't completely stupid stink into his blimp of a head. "And you're never going to find him. There's nothing left of the lowers levels, Dib. Nothing. Just like there's nothing left of his base. Accept it."

"There's the moon base ..."

"Yeah, but we were _in_ the moon base looking for Squee when his Earth base exploded, remember? I stopped the moon base, and _us_, from being blown to little bits as well? Then we took one of his shuttles back to Earth, and now we're stuck with a retarded metal dog that eats Chunk's weight in Mexican food every single day?"

"I _remember_, Gaz! But, he can't be dead! He's _Zim_! And Zim _always_ survives!"

"_Don't_ raise you're annoying voice to me, Dib." Her eyes were mere slits as she entered the room, taking determined steps until she was just in front of him.

Dib scooted back against the wall as she leaned down, eyes shut in waiting. Gaz was probably about to unleash an all new and more horrible form of devastation upon him, but he almost welcomed it. Anything to get those very unwelcome thoughts out of his head: thoughts that said that he _missed_ Zim, that he was _worried_ about Zim ... that life might have no meaning without him around to make it interesting.

And then it happened: bodily contact. Her arms were around his neck, and she was squeezing. He waited, but he didn't black out. His breathing wasn't even obstructed. "Gaz, I think you're doing it wrong."

"Shut up, Dib. If you tell anyone about this, you'll be in for a beating." Her voice was muffled against his shirt as she grit her teeth together at what she was being reduced to.

She was ... _hugging_ him. Hugging! That was a very, very bad sign. Gaz wouldn't just _do_ something like that! If she was hugging him, then that meant that this was real. His arms were tentatively raised to her back, his hold growing tighter as salty liquid stung his eyes. "He's gone, isn't he?"

Gaz only nodded. She hated it when her brother cried. It made him look so weak, and open and _human_. It made her feel sick inside. It made her afraid that somewhere, deep down, she might be capable of the same thing.

The hug had only lasted about five minutes and then she had fled back to her room to make some sort of modifications to GIR that probably involved installing some kind of video gaming system. Dib sighed heavily, reaching under his bed to pull out a large scrapbook. There hundreds of pages, all dedicated to a single subject. He flipped through, letting his tears fall freely now.

He and Zim had done so many horrible things to each other over the years, but somehow they had both survived them all. And it was easy to see, as he turned pages like time, that their wars had gotten softer as the years went by. The times that they had worked together, most of which he had secretly documented as best he could, had become more frequent as well. They could almost have been friends ... if either of them had been more willing to compromise, to admit that they might need something besides their missions and themselves, if either of them had ever been given a reason to believe in a thing as illusive and unsure as trust.

There was a tapping at his window, but he didn't bother looking up. He never thought he would think such a thing, but whatever paranormal phenomena it was could wait. "I'm sorry, Zim. You were a ... a brave warrior ... and you'll be missed, even if it is only by the crazy UFO kid."

A loud thump had Dib finally looking up from his Zim collection to see that a circular hole had been cut in his window, letting a pane of glass fall, unbroken, to his carpet. In the window, there was a brunet woman with matted hair in what appeared to be the ragged and singed remains a house coat. She stepped shakily into the room, looking as if she might collapse at any second.

"You missed me, Dib-worm? How very ... magical."

The voice was different, but the speech pattern was unmistakable. The scrapbook fell to the floor.

* * *

END CHAPTER and Part 1 of SubAwake!

Notes:

-- "If Dib was any more in denial, the moron would be fighting off fucking hippos!" is a spin on the old "if you were any more in denial, you'd be in Egypt" saying...you know, because the da Nile is in Egypt, and in da Nile there are lots of Hippos that will attack people in boats. Tacky, I know, but I see Pepito as being a little corny sometimes.

--I think Pepito used "ironic" incorrectly, but I couldn't think of a better word for something that is both literally and figuratively true in a humorous way. Sorry.

--Leon's mommy is the "pretty girl" who gave Reverend Meat to Nny. He is a "Bub's Burger Boy", which is a pretty obvious rip off of Bob's Big Boy, whose original founder was Bob Wian. info: http / .org/wiki/BigBoy(restaurant)

--I know that there wasn't much of an explanation for some of the possibly confusing stuff in the last ch, but there was too much action for deep thinking. But eventually, Todd will figure some stuff out...maybe slowly and over time...and maybe not all of it. If you want to know something specific about it, ask me questions!

-This story has two main climaxes. This chapter is the resolution of the first climax and the end of part one of the story. If you're a reading for the romances, those should pick up some in part two.

Squee and Invader Zim characters belong to Jhonen Vasquez.

**SPOILER WARNING!:**

Since I'll probably get this question over and over, here is me addressing **the ZIM Issue**:

You're supposed to be somewhat confused about Zim. It's kind of like a mini cliff hanger to tie part one and part two together.

I figure I probably just lost a few ZADR fans who are only in it for the gay xeno aspects and not the dynamic chemistry that Zim and Dib have together, but there are many, many other fics where you can find that if it's what you want. One of the best things about ZADR to me is that it transcends things like race, sex and social standards.

Yes, Zim's pak is currently in control of a human female. And, even though this is a spoiler, he will probably be Irken (and a male, by Irken standards, which may not be the same as human standards anyway) again after a few more chapters.

Thanks for reading everyone!


	16. Chapter 16

**Sublime Awakenings Chapter Sixteen: Resurfacing**

**

* * *

**Warnings: A small amount of sexual innuendo and implications, a few minor potentially offensive theological things

* * *

Pepito sighed to himself as he made his way down the stairs, fresh from the shower and, for the moment, in a loose fitting, cotton ensemble that brushed softly against his skin. He made a quick detour to the kitchen, fishing around in the bread cabinet for a bag of Firey Nachos and grabbing a glass bottle of Poop Cola from the fridge. In Mexico he had acquired a taste for the local variety, which was made with real sugar instead of the high fructose corn syrup that everything in the States now seemed to contain as a staple. He had suggested to his father that the family's chain of restaurants, Casta Diablo, carry it, so that now he had a near constant supply in the home.

Flopping down onto the couch in the living room, he propped his socked feet up on the coffee table as he popped the top and took a deep drink of the icy and refreshing beverage before leaning down so it could join his feet. He signed again. He only had a few more hours. Then his mother would be home, around five thirty or six, followed in another hour or so by his father, and he would have to leave before then. For two weeks he had been avoiding his father, avoiding his inevitable punishment.

So far his father had said nothing about his lending the key to Todd, but when he had first received it, on his thirteenth birthday, it had come with a rather stern warning about such things. And there was no conceivable way that his father had missed the shiny amulet that had glistened against Todd's bare chest on the elementary skool lawn ... the amulet which Pepito still hadn't reacquired.

While he had been spending as much time as possible away from home, at skool, which Todd had yet to return to, and then at the homes of people whom he might loosely call friends or causal lovers, he had still managed to call Todd almost daily. But he had never been available, or more likely willing, to talk to him, and none of those calls had been returned. The few times that he had actually attempted to visit, he had been told that Todd didn't want to see anyone. It seemed that he was trying to avoid him, just as he was trying to avoid his father, and under the circumstances Pepito couldn't really blame him.

It had all been too much, too fast: all those revelations about himself, the kissing, the bit where he had practically begged Todd for his soul .... He knew that the nightmare version of himself, the one that had offered, and then insisted rather forcefully when refused, to take away all of Todd's guilt, regrets and fear had to have been based on something, some impression that he had made upon Todd. And perhaps it had struck a little too close to home, for Todd and even himself.

Groaning at his own stupidity, he pulled open the bag of chips, raising some spicy goodness to his lips as his other hand gripped the remote to turn on the TV. Lazily, he munched his dinner, surfing the many channels, some of which where still including Todd, that Leon kid and the explosion in their news bulletins. Finally, he settled on a rerun of something acceptable on the Scifi channel.

It was half way over when Woofles came trotting in and decided to lunge onto the couch, landing in a satisfied heap in Pepito's lap.

"Ouff! Oh, Woofles, you're getting heavy ... and fat!" Pepito pushed the large half-wolf off of him and onto the seat to his right. Ignoring her growl at his observation, he brought the last chip toward his mouth, only to have it snatched away before he had time to so much as blink. "Hey! You don't even _like_ Firey Nachos!"

Woofles chomped down on her revenge happily before curling up next to her favorite person.

Pepito huffed in indignation before caving to the affection with a half smile. "Whatever." He downed the rest of his cola before reaching for his book bag on the floor, rummaging for a pack of Cancer Lites. When he finally found it, he pulled out a stick of wrapped toxins, lighting it via a small flame from one finger. Pyrokinesis was one of his favorite powers, though he hardly ever got to use it.

Woofles' ears stood on end and she tilted her head at Pepito's actions.

"What? I'm nervous, okay? The smoke will clear long before Mother and Father return."

"I wouldn't count on that, Son."

He froze mid-drag at the sound of his father's voice.

"Pepito Adrian Diablo, you put that cigarette out this instant! And get your feet off the coffee table!"

His eyes widened further when his mother's distinctive pitch was added to the mix, and the cigarette fell from his lips, nearly burning a hole in his sleeping pants. Quickly scooping it up, he enclosed it between two damp fingers before turning around to see both parents standing just behind the couch. Neither looked too pleased. "Father! Mother, I-"

"What have we told you about smoking, Pepito? Especially in our home?" Rosemary's hand made its way easily to her hip as she fell into a familiar stance.

"Uh, that it is forbidden, at least until I am old enough to move out, but ... how long have you been there?"

Señor Diablo shrugged. "A while. I put us both under an invisibility spell."

"But-"

"And my car. Your mother's is in the garage. We both took off early today in hopes of catching your illusive presence at home."

"... oh ...." Pepito cringed. "Why did you do that?"

"Because, young man, you've hardly spent a good, solid night at home since that incident with the skool!" Rosemary crossed her arms over her chest, voice exasperated. "I know that we've been more lenient with you since ...," she paused, unwilling to acknowledge the induction of her only child into the Satanic religion, "since you became a teenager, but you're still not a grown up yet. We expect you to respect our rules until you are. You know good and well that your curfew is one o'clock and that you have to tell us when you're not coming home."

When he said nothing, Señor Diablo spoke up again in an authoritative tone. "Well, what have you to say for yourself, Pepito?"

"I'm sorry?" he offered feebly. It was strange how 'the Devil' and his 'good Christian' wife could work so well together at blindsiding him. But there had to be more to this. His father's job wasn't the kind that one 'took off early' from. Pepito figured that he was probably enjoying watching him squirm, avoiding the true issue until the opportune moment, until Pepito believed that he was in the clear.

"That is nice, Son, but I'm afraid that 'sorry' just isn't going to cut it this time." Señor Diablo followed his wife, both of them making their way around the couch to stand in front of Pepito.

The TV clicked itself off, and Pepito gulped as the tension seemed to mount. "Yes, sir."

Señor Diablo continued his reprimand with dramatic flourish. "For showing your mother and me such disrespect, you are grounded for one week. There will be no leaving of the house unless one of us approves it. There will be no video games, no unsupervised phone calls and _no cigarettes_!" A long-fingered hand was held out, palm up, to receive the last item immediately.

Pepito handed the smokes over with a sour look, but dared not defy either parent. "Yes, Father."

Smiling broadly at Pepito's defeated and still uneasy demeanor, Señor Diablo exchanged a meaningful look with Rosemary. "I am willing to reconsider this punishment on one condition, aside from the cigarettes, of course. You must help me in the basement tonight, after dinner." He eyed the empty junk food remains critically, knowing that the likes of it was probably what his son had been subsisting on of late.

Absently petting Woofles head to busy his hand, Pepito weighted his options carefully. While he hated working with most of the damned, that punishment would be over in a matter of hours instead of dragging out all week long. "I'll take the basement, I suppose."

"Very well, Son, but if this happens again, you will be grounded for _two_ weeks, during which you will spend _all_ of your free time in the basement. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Father. I understand. It won't happen again."

"Good. See that it doesn't. Tomorrow is the funeral of Todd's parents, and if I have to track you down and drag you to it, I will be highly displeased."

"The funeral is tomorrow?" Pepito felt a little sick in the pit of his stomach, wondering if Todd was upset, wondering why his father would care about such a thing.

"Todd's counselor called a few days ago, darling, but we haven't been able to speak with you since then." Rosemary frowned, taking a seat to the left of her son as her voice instantly became softer. "You still haven't talked to him?"

He shook his head, even letting it lull forward for a few seconds before meeting the blue-gray eyes that matched his mother's dress suite. "I don't really think Todd wants to see me right now."

"I'm sure it's not what you think, honey." She reached out a reassuring hand that landed delicately on his shoulder. "He's probably just upset about his parents. Everyone deals with loss in their own way. What's important now is that you be there for him as much as you can, while respecting that. Okay?"

"Yeah, Mom." He gave her a half-hearted smile.

"Son," Señor Diablo sighed, "while I share your mother's hopes in regards to this situation, you must be prepared for a negative reaction. You were well aware of the risks before telling him about us, and Todd has always been a flighty one. I'm sure that you realize how serious, and how dangerous, this could become."

Pepito sat up straight, his body tensing at the implications of what his father was saying, at the implications of why he was accompanying him to the funeral. "Father, let me handle this, please! There is no need for drastic action! I know Todd, and even if he no longer wishes to be my friend, I am certain that he won't be a threat. He wouldn't tell anyone. And, if this is about the key, I will get it back tomorrow, I promise."

"Juan, you can't be serious!" Rosemary's hand left Pepito's shoulder to find his hand as her eyes filled with worry. "Todd isn't dangerous! Even if he _did_ tell, no one would believe him; he's been in a mental institution for years, for God's sake. And I'm sure that, if he is having second thoughts about being friends with Pepito, given enough time, our son will find a way to change his mind. You know how fond of him Pepito is!"

Señor Diablo's hands rose before his face, palms out to his family. "Enough! You both misunderstand me! This situation is quite serious, not because Todd's is a threat to you, Son, but because you _need_ him now. You can not afford to let that friendship dissolve. And there is no reason to collect the key. The key is with its rightful owner."

"What?" Pepito stared forward as relief seemed to soak in through his every pore, too bewildered to even decide which part of what his father was saying was most confusing. But at least it sounded like it meant that Todd was safe after all.

"When you gave it to him, it became his. It belongs to him; he belongs to it. Even if he gave it back to you, it would still be his."

"But I thought-"

"That you were supposed to keep it safe, to keep it to yourself? Yes, I had to tell you that. You had to understand how important it was and what it could do so that it would take someone deserving of your care and trust to bare it. You see, Son, the key was always looking for its next holder. Your Revolution will only be thoroughly realized with the help of the Prophet, the poetic vision behind your political force.

"The current system is hardly perfect. Human beings weigh themselves down with useless dogma, excreting the spiritual equivalent of shit into the ether. This negativity must be drained constantly just to maintain the level of stupidity and pettiness that this world contains by people like Johnny C. And when people die, most of them are still so trapped in the mindset that produces the negativity that they must be stockpiled in the lower levels of Hell in a mostly vain attempt to teach them the errors of that point of view, that mental and spiritual failing."

Staring at him blankly, Pepito tried to process that his father had been lying to him about the key since he was seven, tried to get a firm grasp on what all of this meant for Todd. Everything about the many flaws in the system was already highly familiar at this point, as it was pretty much his father's version of complaining about work.

"Well, obviously, this system needs an overhaul." Señor Diablo quickly summed up the point of what he realized must have been an old lesson for Pepito before diving into the newer information. "That is what your Revolution is. The lock and the key, in this case, yourself and Todd, must work together to bring it about. You must change human society, make more people see the truth that this world is perfect just the way it is. You must stop the endless loop of ignorance and scared, clouded minds. Only then will the Gates of Hell be opened for most of those pitiful fools, both living and dead. Only then will they be able to leave the negativity behind and walk between the worlds, to choose their own reality, to find their true selves.

"In the past, the Prophet was chosen ahead of time by the Administration. Unfortunately, that method didn't seem to be working very well. After the last time it failed horribly, long before you were born, I was able to convince them to allow you to make that choice yourself in hopes that you and they might be more compatible."

"Wait," Pepito raised a hand to pause his father's explanation. "so there have been other Antichrists? Other people with my job? And now Todd is just as marked by destiny as me, just because I .... Father, that doesn't seem right. What if he doesn't want to be the Prophet? He ... he's always been pretty freaked out by, well, me and my purpose."

"I am afraid so, Pepito. But none have had the advantages that you've been provided with. None of them have had your upbringing. And none of them have been able to choose their Prophet. Your chances of success are much higher; however, they do hinge largely upon your friend's willingness to accept the key and upon both of your willingness to work together. It will only bond with one person in a lifetime."

Pepito sunk back into the cushions of the couch, shoulders drooping under the weight of what he had unwittingly done. "How ... how am I going to tell him about this?"

"You're not. Not yet. He still has a imperative decision to make regarding your bid for his soul."

------------------SCENE SHIFT!: The Next Morning----------------------

Morning sunlight poured in through open blinds, illuminating dust particles that drifted across the bedroom. Lying on his stomach on a double bed decked out in rainbow colors, Todd looked up from his notebook to send some of those specks swirling in almost random harmony with a hefty puff of air. He watched them for a few seconds before scribbling on the pages once again.

Since he had left the hospital, he had been writing down as much as he could remember of his experiences in the dreamscape, from the horror of killing his parents to the oneness of oblivion. He thought that he had gotten most of it on paper, even the meager bits and pieces of whatever had happened after Zim's computer went blank. That part was still extremely fuzzy, but he had made some small amount of progress over the last few weeks.

The bed was surrounded by piles of books related to the sublime, most of them on the topic of Romantic literature. Shmee had mentioned the word enough that it must be important, and, as it turned out, the sublime was a very good concept for what he had experienced when he had stepped through the arch. More than that, it was also his biggest clue to the man that had walked in front of the sun. That man had talked about the sublime as well, and Todd had eventually read some poems by William Blake that had actually given him flashes of memory in which some of the same words were spoken with little alteration. In those memories, his visitor also resembled the one photo that his old lap top had managed to turn up under a search for him.

Still, something was missing, something important, because he had no idea why the dead, Victorian man would choose to call on him from the boundless void that lay beyond all realities. Yes, they had both experienced the sublime, they both wrote and they were both considered schizophrenic by a good portion of modern psychology. But none of that gave him a clue as to the reason, if there even was one. Of course, it could all have been an elaborate construct produced by his subconscious. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Squee, open up! You better not have papered the walls with Bible pages in there!"

He looked up from his notebook once again as the sound of Letta's muffled voice drove him from his thoughts.

The door knob jiggled as metal tapped against metal before she burst into the room with a straightened paper clip in hand. She smirked at Todd's surprised look. "You thought I couldn't get into my own room?"

"I thought you might take the locked door as a hint. And just for the record, I would never rip apart a book for wallpaper ... even though this color _does_ get kind of sickening after a while." He stuck his tongue out at the bubblegum pink wallpaper that was an obvious remnant of Letta's childhood. Normally, when he spent the night there, it was in the guest room, which Leon currently occupied.

"Well, maybe that wouldn't be a problem if you ever took a break from looking at it. You know, if you maybe left the room for more than an hour a day of required therapy. Or, I don't know, what if you left the _house_; wouldn't that be wild?"

"I'm not going out there. Not yet." Ever since his run in with the sublime, Todd had felt more open, more exposed than usual. It was as if his ego had never recovered completely from being stripped from his soul. And now that soul was out in the open, visible to himself and anyone else perceptive enough to look. Though Todd Casil was gradually reemerging, the thought of social interaction seemed like going into battle without any armor.

Letta sighed at the expected response, the one she had been arguing against variations of for two weeks now. "Todd, you have to. The funeral is today, remember?"

"_Today_? It's Monday already?" Though he had still managed to do it, lying, dishonesty of any kind really, had become more of a task than before. Then, it had been barely any effort at all, but after the sublime, it was like mental exercise that he kept having to remind himself the point of. And it currently _did_ have a very compelling point. Still, it would have eventually become apparent that his parents were not going to be found. Leon had told Brian about rooms containing possibly hundreds of people, and last week Todd had collaborated, claiming that his memories of the event were just then resurfacing. He had described as many people as he could remember seeing, along with revealing that his own parents had perished in the skool as well.

"Yeah, it's Monday. Isn't it funny how time flies when you're locked in a room with your own warped delusions and eighteenth century poetry?" She rolled her eyes when his notebook slipped to the carpet so that he could bury his head in the pillow that he had been using to support it at the foot of her bed. "If you don't get up, the next time the press calls, I'll tell them about the 'true' nature of your relationship with those books."

The pillow left Todd's head, giving him a strange feeling when none of the longer hair that he had gotten cut was ruffled, so that he could give her a equally strange look, an eyebrow raising at that last remark.

"What do you call people who get off on books?"

"Maybe if _you_ had more interest, you'd know." He smiled at her playfully narrowed eyes. "Besides, bibliophilia just means 'love of books and, or reading'. It doesn't have to be sexual."

"Maybe so, but the media always plays up the sensational stuff."

"Really? All those crazy guesses they've been spouting about what really happened with Bitters had given me no clue. But I don't care. Let them think that it all started with an underground book-love cult that finally took their obsession over the edge. Maybe all those people died of paper cuts!"

What started as a laugh degraded into a snort as Letta struggled to maintain a stern composure. "Look, Todd, you really have to go."

"Letta, funerals are for the living, to help people get through losing someone they loved. I don't really think that I need one. And it's not even like there are bodies to bury or anything." Todd hadn't wanted a funeral for his parents himself, but Brian had insisted that it would help in the 'healing process', which he was obviously going through.

"Its not just that. You need to get out of the house. You can't just lie around reading old books and eating milk and cookies for the rest of you life." She almost cringed at the half eaten bag of chocolate chips and empty glass perched on top of one pile of books. It was his comfort food, but there were so many calories! Still, Todd was thin enough that the worst it could really do him would probably be an improvement.

"I know, but-"

"No buts. You're going. Your parents are the main focus of this. People are gonna notice if you're not there. Plus, Dad wants you to meet the Priests from our new church. They're a lot better than Fred and Jasper. They're nicer, less fundamentalist _and_ they speak with an Irish accent." She attempted a persuasive smile. "Everything sounds better with an Irish accent."

Todd hid his head under the pillows again, attempting to sidestep the guilt trip that was being thrown out in front of him. After his last visit to their old church, Father Fred had asked them not to return. Of course, Letta had insisted that if they stayed she was going to tie Deacon Jasper to a chair and pull all of the hairs from his head, one by one, in revenge for the bleached holy water that had made her have to dye her own hair back to its original dark honey. Still, the domino of events had started with his math homework.

"Alright, Squee, you leave me no choice." Letta ripped the pillow from his grip, tossing it into a corner and turning to yell in the direction of the door, where her last recourse lay in wait. "You can come in now! I need backup!"

When, not Brian or even Leon stepped through the door, but Gaz, Todd's eyes widened considerably. He sat up, scooting back further onto the bed, tempted to hide himself within its protective blankets.

"Hi, Squee." Gaz came to a halt directly in front of the bed, stopping the slight rustling of her lacy, black dress for the moment as she tucked her Game Slave into a matching purse.

"Umm ... hi, Gaz. What are you-"

"Oh, I just came over to check on you. How are your burns? Have you been using the cream like I told you to?"

Shooting Letta a glare for letting anyone in, Todd quickly turned his gaze back to Gaz. Her voice was overly pleasant, something which usually meant that whomever heard it was pretty doomed. "They're okay ... much better. I, uh, have been using the cream." It was the same cream that Dib had given him for his arm. Pepito had brought it to him in the hospital, but Gaz had warned him not to use it until he was released.

"That's very good." Gaz smiled. "So, you're all better now, physically?"

"... pretty much ...."

Her smiled transformed into a smirk. "Good."

Todd dove back, further on the bed, toward the wall, but he was too late. Gaz had caught his right foot and she was pulling. He reached desperately for the headboard, moist fingers barely grazing it before his entire body was jerked backwards, and it was no longer in reach. "Gaz, stop! Let's talk about this, huh?" He slid across the bed on his belly, dragging comforter and sheets with him until he hit the floor. He pulled the blankets from his upper body just in time to be met with a splash of icy cold water. "Ack! Oh, God, that's freezing!"

"And there's more where that came from, you whiny little bitch!" Gaz handed the glass back to Letta triumphantly. "I hope you realize, Squee, that this is me going very, _very_ easy on you. But if you don't stop wallowing in angst and get the hell up, I'm going to show you what its like to be Dib on a bad day!"

"Gaz, you don't understand! I don't need-"

"What _I_ understand, Squee, is that my cleated boots can do a great deal of damage to your face if you continue to invoke my wrath!" She threw her hands up in frustration. "Do you even realize what a greedy, selfish jackass you've been for the last two weeks? People make efforts to contact you, to help you in the best way they know how, like this funeral, and you just throw it back in our faces! Well, that's not acceptable! If I'm willing to put my game slave on silent and sit through some bullshit religious service for you, then you're going. Oh, you are _so_ going!"

Todd's hands gripped and released, gripped and released the sheets he was wrapped in as he watched Gaz's ball into fists. He felt like his heart had jumped into his throat when one of those fists made a B-line for him. Luckily, instead of hitting him, she simply clutched the collar of his shirt, jerking him to his feet.

Even though Squee was roughly four inches taller than her, Gaz stepped up to him with an intimidating scowl. "So, what's it gonna be? Are you going or do you want me to rearrange your face?"

Five minutes later, Todd found himself in the shower, on his way to getting dressed for the funeral. He gave the silver key around his neck another futile tug. His hands ran around the smooth chain to make sure that he hadn't just missed the clasp that didn't exist all of those times before. All of his efforts to remove the thing over the past couple weeks had failed, and now he was going to a Catholic funeral ... in a Catholic Church ... where there was going to be Mass. He suddenly regretted not taking any of Pepito's calls.

--------------------SCENE SHIFT-------------------

"Come on, Zim! Just _try_ the bacon!" Dib thrust the strip of meat toward Zim's plate via a pair of tongs, only to have both items smacked back toward his face by a, now five-fingered, hand covered in a long, yellow rubber glove.

"Zim wants no meats!" He pulled the plate of maple covered waffles closer to the disgusting hymun body that he was currently being forced to borrow.

"But it's organic! And you're human now, Zim. You need more than just waffles. You need some protein, some vitamins, _water_!" Dib sighed, knowing that he had already lost this fight yet again. He took a seat in front of his own plate, which was much more diverse.

"Zim will be the judge of that, Dib-stink! I need none of your filthy Earthen animal innards to fill my pitiful and inefficient human belly! These waffles will have to suffice until my new and amazingly improved Zim-body is ready for activation!"

"Wait. What do you mean 'improved'?" He sent the 'woman' across from him a paranoid half-glare. "I thought you said that your pak had a sample of your own genetic code, that the new body was just going to be a clone of your old one."

Stuffing the human mouth with as much waffle as it could chew at once, a feeble amount when compared with its Irken counterpart, Zim nodded emphatically before swallowing it down. He had to admit that the Dib's waffles were far superior to GIR's. It could be that the human taste buds were different than what he was used to, but was more likely the distinct lack of soap as an ingredient. "So I did, and it is! But I have made some minor modifications so that the new body will be highly superior!"

"You're talking about height, aren't you?" Dib's tone was flat, much less than impressed.

"Yes! But not just height. It will also be more resistant to your pathetic Earth-water and all that that implies. Because of the small amounts of Earth-based substances that we have been using in the growing process, the body has become somewhat adapted to the vast amounts of pollution that entrench this wretched ecosystem."

"Oh, well that's good, I guess. For you anyway. That way it won't hurt as much when-" He stopped mid-sentence, realizing that, if he didn't want to be like the image of himself from Squee's nightmare, it was probably a bad idea to threaten Zim with experimentation at every possible turn. "never mind."

Zim raised a brown eyebrow instead of a green brow ridge at the Dib's response. Since he had nearly died two Earth weeks ago, both he and Dib had been almost _nice_ to each other, almost _friendly_. Even in this human body, it still made his stomach burn with a sickly heat. Friendship was a thing that Invaders were not supposed to need. It was a thing that Zim had never really had or, for the most part, wanted.

But for years now his mission, the Earth, had instantly brought to mind the human boy. Any thought of abandoning it was a thought of abandoning Dib, of never seeing him again, of letting his short, human life fizzle out on this small and mostly harmless planet without ever even having ventured past the solar system, without even having the honor of dying in a grand battle. And Dib deserved more than that. Despite emerging from a planet of morons, Dib was his equal, or as close to an equal as an Elite such as the Mighty Zim was ever likely to find. Dib was worth coming back for, worth fighting, worth keeping if Bitters' plan had been carried out. His pink, humany eyelid twitched at the mere thought of Ms. Bitters.

"So," Dib spoke up again when they were both between bites, "how much longer do you think it'll be before the body is ready?"

"Eh, Zim has never had the displeasure of regrowing his body before, but not too much longer. Perhaps ... around a week in Earth time."

"Wow, that's really fast!"

"Yes! Marvel at the glory of Irken technology, for it is truly a, eh, marvel to behold!" Zim chuckled to himself at the Dib's child-like awe at such basic technologies, drawing his hand back in from a dramatic pointing to shovel more food into his mouth.

"Zim ... you just said that something is a marvel because it's a marvel. You know that, right?"

"Lies! Zim would never say such as thing!"

"I'm pretty sure that you did."

"No! Your head is full of filthy, filthy human logic! And bacon! So flawed!"

The door to the basement slid open, and Professor Membrane walked by the table, heading for the refrigerator, eyes tired behind his goggles after a long night working on a new invention. "Hello, Son. Hello ... uh," He stopped with his hand on the refrigerator door. "Son, aren't you going to introduce me to your ... your ... whoever this person is?"

"Oh! Yeah. Dad, this is ... this is my, uh, my-"

"His partner!" Zim interrupted. "I am the Dib's lab partner! From skool! I am here so that we may work on a project! It's, eh, for _science_!"

"I _do_ love Science." Membrane's goggles glowed a electric blue as he looked the woman over more closely. She looked more around the age for a teacher than a high skool student, but not old enough to have Old Kid's Disease. She was probably in her thirties or early forties, but she wore no makeup, no jewelry and her clothes consisted of rubber cleaning gloves, a loose Mysterious Mysteries T-shirt, black jeans that were too long and too big flip-flops. His hand fell limply from the refrigerator handle before regaining enough direction to shoot up, pulling his goggles down to reveal widened hazel eyes. "Dib! Why is this woman wearing your clothes!"

"Dad, I can explain! I-"

"No! No, no, no! This is highly inappropriate! Ma'am, I don't know who you really are, but my son is a minor."

Dib leaped to his feet. "Dad, it's not like that!"

"Son, you just stay right there. I'm going to make a quick call!" Membrane reached for the communicator attached to his goggles, but was obstructed when Dib dashed to his side, grabbing his wrist.

"No! Dad, really, this ... this is Zim! You know, my 'little foreign friend'? See the pak on her back? That's Zim's personality storage! Remember the time that it tried to take over my pitiful human mind? Well, it's doing the same to that woman until we can clone him a new body! He's staying here because I can't trust him to not take over the world if I give him his moon base back!"

Zim smiled widely at the shocked man. "Greetings, Dib-parental unit!"

"Son ... you ... you've really lost it this time, haven't you? You've convinced this crazy, homeless woman that she is your poor little friend!" Membrane attempted to shake his hand free to no avail.

"No, Dad! It really is Zim! Everything that I've been saying about aliens all these years has all been true!" Still holding the hand, Dib turned back toward at the table. "Zim, back me up!"

"Eh, it is true that I am the Mighty Zim, temporarily trapped in this inferior meat-body, but Zim is no alien! I am normal! So very normal!"

Dib turned back to his dad. "See?"

"Now, Son, you know that Zim is dead. I realize that it's hard for you, losing such a close friend, but you're going to have to let him go. There's not a hobo on this planet that will ever be able to replace him, no matter how much you pay or hypnotize them. And for the last time, like always, there _are_ no aliens, none capable of traveling the vast distance to reach the Earth anyway!"

Sighing in resignation, Dib looked to the floor, his grip loosening on his dad's hand now that the man no longer believed Zim to be a middle-aged, female pedophile at least. Hypnotized hobo was better, right?

"So, I'm sorry, Dib, but you can't keep her. We'll have to call a local shelter and- Booom!" His hand was freed when Dib let go at the elated cry of the word that he had come to use over the years, especially in the advanced kollege mathematics classes that he taught, to signify an error in the logical thought process. That woman! He knew who she was! He had seen her photograph on the late night news as he worked in his basement lab. "Son! Did you find this woman when you were helping the rescue workers and bring her back here? She should have been taken to a hospital! What time is it?"

Zim swallowed the remainder of his breakfast. "It's 10:45 AM. And Zim was not _found_. I came here myself!"

"Ten forty-five! Son, we have to go now!"

"Where?"

"To her funeral! In the name of Science, we've got to stop it!"

--------------------SCENE SHIFT-------------------

The worst thing about Catholic funerals, Todd decided, in this particular instance at least, was that they contained a Mass. Funeral Masses, like all Masses, were open to the public, and the public, at the moment, were more interested in him than he would like. So far, he had shaken hands with more people than all of the previous such greetings in his entire life added together. He had even, very reluctantly, signed a few news papers featuring the event that had lead to the funeral.

Luckily, now, at the internment of the urns, which contained random ashes from the site of the incident, most of the extras were keeping a respectful distance. That might have been Mr. Diablo's doing, but Todd doubted that his powers worked on holy ground. It was more likely Johnny's hateful, somewhat psychotic scowl, as he hung toward the outer semicircle of mourners, that kept the hoards of onlookers at bay.

To be honest, he had been extremely shocked that Johnny, Elize and _the Devil_ had showed up at his parent's funeral at all, even if it was just for the burial. And it had been almost as surprising when Mrs. Diablo and Pepito had been at the Mass itself. Then again, all Todd had felt upon entering the church with the key around his neck was a very slight tingling sensation.

Letta's elbow nudged him out of his contemplation, and he turned to face her as he rubbed his ribs. He had to lean closer so she could whisper in his ear.

She gestured to the Priest, Father Ted Crilly, who was busy saying a typical prayer, urging those present to have faith that the bodies of the deceased would be resurrected in the final days and to pray for those in Purgatory. "Todd, I want to be cremated. And you have to spread the ashes. No burial."

Todd rolled his eyes, pulling away before they attracted attention. The zombie nightmare was apparently still affecting her, not that that wasn't understandable.

She pulled him back a little roughly by the arm and continued in a loud whisper, "You have to promise!"

"Fine, I promise! But you know that wasn't real." He matched her tone, pulling away again as they both received a warning look from Brian and a glare from Gaz, whose game play they were probably interrupting. Standing up straighter, he continued to watch as the prayer finally came to an end, and Father Ted, a gray-haired forty-something, who did, in fact, have an Irish accent, addressed the crowd.

"Well now, would anyone here like to say a final goodbye or make a speech of some kind?"

Todd could practically feel everyone looking at him, though most of them were behind him, but he simply shook his head in the negative. The _best_ thing about Catholic funerals, again in this instance, was that they didn't permit eulogies. Such things were allowed only after the Church's ceremony and weren't obligatory as they were in many other religious traditions.

In Todd's case, this was a relief because there was no way that he was saying one. It wasn't that he didn't feel sorry for his parents _at all_, but he didn't really know them, so he couldn't really miss them. He could only miss the _idea_ of having parents, and he had been missing that for a while. Besides, if they didn't earn respect in life, then they didn't deserve it in death.

Pepito stood a few yards away, between his mother and father, where he had been staring at Todd instead of the Priest for the past fifteen minutes. He looked so stoic, so unmoved. If his own parents had been in those urns, though only one of them _could_ die, he would have been a sobbing mess at best. But, he knew that the man who was possibly in the vase had never been a father to Todd, just as the woman had never been a mother. The boy was a perpetual orphan.

When the main Priest stepped away from the storage unit, and the remains that symbolized Todd's parents where safely locked inside, the group drifted away from it as well, choosing instead to congregate in the small park that was adjacent to the cemetery. Pepito followed, walking fast to catch up with Todd as his parents disappeared with Brian and Leon to gather ingredients for a picnic.

Hearing the footsteps of Pepito, Todd slowed his pace at the entrance to the park, knowing that he was going to have to face him again soon enough anyway. "Hey, Pepito."

"Hello, Todd." Pepito matched his pace, walking at his side as the other guests gave them fleeting looks, but kept heading for the tables. "I tried calling you. About twenty times actually." His voice sounded a little grudging, even to himself. Instantly, he tacked on a softer "Are you alright?"

"I know." Todd studied his feet for a moment, watching dried grass turn into sandy ground as guilt threatened to make him blush. "I'm sorry. I'm fine. I just ... I felt weird for a while. It wasn't anything personal. I didn't mean to offend you or anything."

"I wasn't offended, just worried and ... are you sure we're okay?" Pepito met Todd's eyes in surprise when his hand was suddenly grabbed and he was being pulled away from the tables and to a large tree beside a chain-linked fence.

Todd sent him a small smile. "They'll come get us when it's ready." He took a seat on the side of the tree that faced away from the wooden gazebo that the lunch was going to take place inside.

Sitting opposite him, Pepito crossed his legs in an Indian style position, hoping that his mother wouldn't be too upset if his suit was dirtied.

Reaching into his shirt, Todd pulled out the necklace, letting the key rest against the white clothe that lay behind the black jacket that was somewhat uncomfortable this time of year ... like everything else where they happened to live. Pepito hadn't called it an 'infernal inferno' for no reason all that time ago, especially after having lived in New York. "I, umm, seem to have forgotten to give this back. And I have no idea how to get it off."

Pepito felt his face fall a little as everything that his father had told him the night before was replayed in his mind once again. He couldn't tell Todd what he'd learned, but the key probably wasn't going to let go until its fate was known. He forced an uneven smile. "Why don't you just hang onto it for a while?"

"But don't you need to keep it? Didn't you say that it was really important to the Administration when you gave it to me?"

"Er, yeah, but remember when I said that you would be the only one who could take it off? You might still need its protection, and your subconscious probably won't let you until it believes that you're safe. Bitters is gone, but, based on what Father saw on the All Seeing Eye when you were in her base, her race is still out there, probably still planning to go through with whatever it is they're up to. And that kid ... Leon? Shmee is still inside of him, right? That could be dangerous."

"I ... guess." Pepito was probably right about Bitters' people, but he really wasn't sure about Leon. The truth was that he hadn't spent much time with him. He wasn't lying when he said that he really had wanted to be alone, completely alone, and that not talking to Pepito wasn't personal. But, if he was trying to avoid people who were likely to notice spiritual changes, and lack of armor, then the Antichrist would be at the top of that list.

"So you'll keep it?" Pepito shuffled closer. "I talked to Father, and he agreed that it would be best for now, so we won't get in any trouble. And as long as you can't get it off, you can't loose it."

Looking down at the key again, Todd suppressed a paranoid worry that something might be horribly wrong, that it might _never_ come off. "Sure. But ... it won't be for too long, will it? I think people might start to wonder eventually."

Pepito let out a relieved sigh, but still felt bad for lying to Todd. He felt like he was breaking his promise from only a few nights ago, like he had already broken it when he had put the key around the his neck. He was also reminded sickeningly of the way that his father had lied to his mother in the beginning of their relationship. "You'd be surprised, Amigo. Not many people question the lock, and when they do I just tell them that it's a family heirloom. Heh. You could probably get away with telling most people that it was a house key or something. But, don't worry, it shouldn't be too long."

Nodding reluctantly, Todd tucked the shiny sliver back under his shirt before resting his elbow on a raised knee and the corner of his jaw on a fist. "So, what were you calling about all those times?" He smiled apologetically, though a dash of humor managed to squirm its way in as well. If there was one thing that Pepito had always been, it was persistent.

"Oh, you know, just to make sure you were alright ... and ..."

"And?"

Pepito took a deep breath, feeling his cheeks heat up some as he quickly ran through the long and sentimental speech that he had been mentally practicing for over a week, selecting the most important parts. "And I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry ... really sorry. I realize now that, even though I didn't want to take advantage of you during your time of hardship, that ... well, I did. I shouldn't have sprung all of my issues on you like that. It was just ... when I thought you were going to die, I was so afraid, but then you were still in peril ..." Trailing off, he frowned when it was apparent that the elegance was mostly lost somewhere between his mind and his mouth.

"Pep, it's okay. I mean, that was a lot to handle all at once, but it's not like you demanded a decision or anything, or ..." Then Todd did blush, full on, at the memory of kissing him, "or made me do any of it. I know you were upset too."

"So ... I have your forgiveness? We're still friends?" He hated the near desperate tone of his own voice, but in a way that question had been cycling through his mind, unanswered, for years. Yes, Todd and he had technically been good friends for quite some time now, but that friendship was not one of full disclosure. During that time Pepito had hidden things, sometimes even lied about things, that he might react poorly to. It was ironic that Todd was the one person that he had never wanted to lie to, both then and now.

"There's really not much to forgive. Besides, I think that's only fair, considering all the stuff you've forgiven me for." Todd sent him a another smile, this one more playful. "I really don't know why you put up with me."

"Don't say that, Squee. I, anyone, would be lucky to have you as a friend. You're a good person, even though I don't think you realize it. You're what a human being should be, but very rarely is. I-I also wanted to make sure that you know that I would never try to take that away from you. I do think that you worry too much, and that you feel bad for things that aren't your fault and that people sometimes deserve, but I don't want to take away your compassion. I don't want to take away who you are. I love who you are."

For a moment Pepito's last sentence kept Todd speechless. His insides felt bubbly and intoxicated like freshly uncorked champagne. He had to bite his lip, making a conscious effort to control his smile, which felt like it wanted to consume his entire face and then maybe the world, just for kicks. He let his left hand reclaim Pepito's as he forced a reply through the near stupor. "Ummm, thanks, Pepito, for saying all of that. I, uh, don't think that you would. Is this about the nightmare world? Because I know that wasn't really you."

Returning the grip on his hand, Pepito shifted even closer. "Yes, but Shmee chose to use me that way for a reason, a reason probably based on some level of underlying truth about what you see in me, just like with Dib, and your parents and the way he used Johnny's form to represent your own personal bogeyman."

Todd nodded, realizing that Pepito had probably been dwelling on the ordeal almost as much as he had, all the while thinking that it and his revelations were the reason for the lack of contact. "That's true, but those are mostly _my_ issues. I ... I have a tendency to see the worst of everything, probably because I've experienced so much of it. I've been thinking about this a lot lately, and I think ... I _don't_ think that Shmee was just trying to take advantage of my fears. I think that, in a way, he _was_ my fears, some of the more serious ones anyway. All of those things that I believed about the world, but didn't want to, Shmee took those things on because I ... couldn't.

"Shmee said that he was constructed from my own ego, my own needs, so maybe beings like him take on aspects of the host's personality, like a type of psychic symbiosis. And I think that maybe Shmee contained the part of me that was afraid, completely afraid, of living in a world that ... well, a world that the same part of me took for granted as evil. That's why the landscape in the nightmare world was so monstrous. Those wicked organics were how I saw nature and the world, but that wasn't right. That point of view was too small and limited to see the whole system, the bigger picture. That's what I saw in the void: that everything is connected."

Todd paused, shacking his head at his own frustrated efforts to explain something that he didn't completely understand yet himself. "Sorry, I don't ... I haven't really had a chance to talk to anyone who might understand this yet. Is any of it even making any sense?"

"Yes, it is, actually. But even if it wasn't, listening is supposed to be one of those things that friends are for, right? So, continue, please." After his father's talk the night before, most of what Todd was saying made a great deal of sense. It was all starting to fall into place, and it made Pepito feel as conflicted as the functions of Hell, which, he supposed, was entirely befitting.

Giving the hand he was holding an appreciative squeeze, Todd attempted to pick up somewhere around where he had left off. "That part of me that was so afraid feels like it's fading. Now, it's like ... there's nothing to really _fear_, but some things to be cautious of out of practicality. It's like ... snakes."

"Snakes?" Pepito raised a dark brow, giving him a lopsided grin for his example, which would be appropriate for most humans, but had never really done the trick for him.

"Well," Todd shrugged, "more like the difference between being irrationally afraid of them, even the small and nonpoisonous ones, and having a healthy respect for what some of them could do to you if you're not careful, if _you_ frighten _them_. Well, you know, maybe not _you_ specifically, Pepi."

It was Pepito's turn to shrug. "Snakes never bothered me ... they usually like me."

"Yeah, I bet." Todd let out a short, humorous chuckle. "Snakes were just a common example, though. Maybe ... hey, _are_ you afraid of anything like that?"

"Me? That would have to be doves."

"Doves? Seriously?"

"What? No, Amigo. Why would I fear doves! Ha! They're just glorified pigeons."

"Well, I don't know; there is the whole thing with Christian symbolism ... even though in the older, pagan version of the flood story in the Epic of Gilgamesh, the raven plays that role instead. But anyway, that reminds me, I was going to ask you ..." Todd took a deep breath, knowing that he was probably about to make Pepito laugh even harder with his undoubtedly silly question. "How come you came to the Mass? I mean, I've always heard that people of the Devil's Party, or demons at least, couldn't go on holy ground. And then your father was at the cemetery too."

Pepito snorted, but did his best not to laugh out loud. "That, my friend, is simply a fairytale that Christians like to tell themselves when they've seen a few too many horror movies. You see, their god isn't really omnipotent, and can't be everywhere at once ... not without letting go of his individuality and personal goals anyway. He also doesn't really care all that much about the minor things that happen on Earth. In reality, such protections work more like spells, but only if there is enough faith or will to back them up, and most of the time, there isn't enough faith in a typical church service to even give me a headache. Not that I make a habit of going to Church services or anything. And I did take some Excedrin a few hours ago."

"That makes sense, I guess. But isn't your father very ... busy?"

"Yes, but I think that he wanted to see Leon for himself, in person. The child's situation is quite unusual, and there is a chance that he could be of use if Bitters' people are still going to give us trouble." And he probably also wanted to see how Todd was adjusting to life with the key, but it was best to keep that to himself.

"Oh." Todd looked down for a moment, brushing his free hand over a few blades of grass. "What exactly do you mean by 'use'?"

"Nothing yet. If Leon and Shmee are as fully integrated as Bitters thought, then they're probably stuck like that, but we still might be able to get some information about what they're planning from Shmee."

"Pepito, Ms. Bitters said that the only way Shmee could get free is if Leon _dies_." He wanted to let go of Pepito's hand then, but instead his grip tightened almost painfully. If the only difference between the Antichrist and Bitters was that one of them happened to like him, then choosing which side to be on was a very empty choice ... almost as bad as voting for president.

Flexing his hand, Pepito tried to loosen Todd's hold. "Todd," the name came out a little whiny, "while it is sometimes humorous, you've got to stop believing all those stereotypes. It is against our creed to harm innocent, little children. And Shmee said the same thing about the connection between him and yourself, but that didn't turn out to be true. In any case, there might be a way to talk to Shmee without separating them. He was able to pull himself together enough to help you in Bitters' base, after all."

"What about all those kids you blew up in second grade on your first day?" Todd shrugged a little irritably. "I'll give you that the zombie kids don't count."

"Heh. You damn well better, Amigo, because I only blew up the zombies to save you. As for the others, I _did_ say _innocent_ little kids, didn't I? But anyway, I was a kid then too, and I wasn't initiated. I didn't really completely understand what I was doing or the power that I had."

Todd sighed. He had disliked those same kids very much as well, and he guessed that Pepito did have a point about his being a kid too. It reminded him of the story of Jesus talking one of his friends into jumping off a roof so he could test out is resurrection powers when he was a kid. But it still wasn't very nice.

"Still," Pepito continued, "... those kids shouldn't have made fun of my hair. Considering that I tried to cut it myself, it could have been worse. It could have been a bowl cut! My parents had already been making fun of it for weeks." He shook his head at the memories, which were kind of funny to him now as well, though they definitely hadn't been at the time.

"So, you ... did that to _yourself_?" Todd raised an eyebrow as the corner of his mouth curved into a slight smirk.

"Oh, don't start. It wasn't that bad."

"If you say so, Pep." Shaking his head, Todd looked from Pepito, toward the picnic tables, where the adults were now busy setting up the food. The hair really wasn't _that_ bad; it was just fun getting him riled up sometimes.

"Well, I do say so, and-!"

"And if you say something enough times, that makes it true?"

"When you're a crowned Prince of Hell and the next Black Pope, yes, yes it does." Nodding, Pepito shot him a large, self-assured smile.

"God, you're already a politician." When Todd's hand came across a small twig of dried out leaves, he playfully tossed it at the Pepito's head.

The twig was caught inches from Pepito's face, and he throw it back lightly, watching it hit Todd's chest and fall into his lap. "Yes! Now all that stands between me and world domination is a decent hair cut!" He sent Todd, who had apparently decided to grind the crunchy leaves into a fine powder in his hands, a sly grin at his own contradiction of everything he had just said.

"Heh. Your hair is fine."

"See, my powers of persuasion know no bounds!" Pepito shrugged. "And there's a lot to be said for the powers of hair products and professional stylists as well. I like your new cut, by the way."

"Oh, thanks. It was ... getting in the way." And getting pulled an awful lot. Now it was a mere two inches long, just enough to allow him a little volume and some bangs. It was much easier to manage, but it had the downside of making him look even thinner than he already did.

Johnny crept through the park, glad that most of his little neighbor's 'fans' had dissipated after the funeral. At least the Devil was good for something. He ignored the amused looks that he was getting from everyone under the gazebo, attention focused on Squee and Pepito as he darted from tree to tree, hiding his thin, slinky body behind each. The teens were so preoccupied with each other that they didn't notice his stealthy approach, which was saying a lot when one considered Squee's paranoia and Pepito's demonic powers. His left eye twitched in disgust at the thought before he leaped from behind the nearest tree. "Squeegee!"

"Ah!" Two handfuls of ground leaves flew into the air to rain back down upon all three of them when Todd jumped at Johnny's voice, quickly turning around and moving back from the tree to face him, and finding himself much closer to a laughing Pepito. "H-hey, Nny. I didn't see you come over."

There was a brief reprieve from the falling particles before Johnny's face ticked, and a skinny hand shot up to pull a yellow and red hat from his head, poring another layer of leafy bits onto the boys.

Todd eyed the two blue stalks that rose above a bed of tiny black hairs that had been growing back in for the last two weeks, then the hat that was tugged back on top of it. "Ummm, Nny? Why are you wearing a Hot Dog on a Stick hat? Do you actually work there now?"

"Me? Work there? Never! Well, sometimes I stop by the stand for some free food, and naturally, people approach in a thoughtless, inconsiderate and incurably lazy quest for questionable meat products. But I just happened to see this hat in the back of the Weenie-mobile on the way here, and, even though the wretched thing is a hideous affront to my very existence, I _had_ to stop Elize's bitching! My God, the bitching! You have _no idea_!"

"Oh. Sorry, I guess." To be honest, Elize didn't really seem the type to nag at anyone, but Todd could see how Johnny might be a special case. He was, after all, a very ... special individual with very ... unusual habits. Actually, he was almost jealous that Elize was dead and thus safely able to nag at his homicidal neighbor instead of constantly having to walk on eggshells around him. He forced a smile of his own when Johnny's scowl turned into a large smile so fast that it really did look as though he had just turned his frown upside down.

"It's okay, Squee! I've come to retrieve you and your little 'friend' for feeding!"

"Oh, yeah, 'no idea'." Pepito muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes as he got to his feet and offered Todd a hand up as well. As the three of them started back to the picnic tables, he found himself smirking again. "Ah, lunch time, huh? Great! Oh, Johnny, fix me a hot dog, could ya!"

"What!" Johnny stopped mid-step, his falling right foot changing direction, crossing back over his stationary left to spin him around to face Pepito. One hand darted into his coat, then down to his belt, but there was nothing. Damn Elize for making him leave all of his weaponry at home! "Oh, hell no! Not unless you want me to stuff it down your throat for you as well! Because _that_ I will do, you sophomoric, mean-spirited hellion! Yes, _that_ I will do!"

Shooting Pepito a berating look, Todd turned his attention to Johnny. This time he would have to run interference from the other side. "Nny, please! It was only a joke! You know what I think? I think you two just run into a lot of confusion because you have such vastly different senses of humor. But he was willing to overlook the 'I'm about to kill you' joke, right?"

"I ... suppose so." The words were gruff, and Johnny knew that the look he was sending both of them was begrudging.

Sometimes Squee had a way of coming off as more of an adult than himself, usually at times when he was about to give vent to his frustrations with the world and the sorry people that overpopulated it like so many vermin. He resented it, and sometimes it seemed a little condescending, but for the most part, he knew that what the boy told him was true ... from a certain point of view. From Squee's point of view, people were more equal, more deserving of life, and the world didn't revolve around Johnny or any one person. It provided him with a momentary glimpse into a different world, and reminded him, uncomfortably, that his own point of view was just as subjective, that he might well be very, truly insane. But it never lasted very long.

Pepito managed to stifle his smile, mouthing a small 'sorry' to Todd as they and Johnny continued on their way. When they made it to the gazebo, they both joined the other 'children' on the right end of the table, though with a grand total of twelve people at the long table, it wasn't a very effective barrier, physically or conversationally. Food and drink were passed around, with his mother and Brian doing most of the actual fixing of plates, despite the fact that Leon was the only one present who might have, _possibly_, needed such treatment.

"Tell me, Father Crilly," Rosemary said to break the silence that had settled as everyone began to eat, "how long have you been working in America? Brian told me earlier that you're from a small island off the coast of Ireland."

"Uh, yes, actually. Craggy Island, off the west coast. We've been stationed here for a good couple years now, haven't we Dougal?" He glanced briefly to the younger priest to his left.

"Ai, that we have Ted, that we have. Of course, Ted here had a go at America once before, but it didn't turn out on account of that Lourdes thing where he spent all that poor kid's money in Vegas, right Ted?"

"Shut-up, Dougal! You know that that money was just _resting_ in my account!"

"Sure, right, Ted." He turned away from Ted, turning his incredulous smile, which was at risk of bursting into a laugh, toward the only people at the table younger than his twenty-eight years.

"It _was_!"

Letta snickered into the plastic cup that held her lemonade before returning it to the table. "Oh, I heard that your last parish was in LA. How was it? Was it really as false and artificial as everyone says it is?"

"Yes."

"I'd love that." She rested her head at an angle on her fist with a starry-eyed look, ignoring her dad shaking his head on her left.

"God, so would I," Ted added with a weary sort of enthusiasm. "But, you see, we were actually located in an area that was a bit of a ghetto. That's the reason we moved to this parish. Gang violence, you know."

"No we didn't, Ted! We moved because of that whole scandal with the Bishop's son and all those midgets! Don't you remember?"

"Hah! Father McGuire is such a kidder! Yes, he just loves the old joke." Ted wrapped one arm around him, squeezing a little too hard as a warning that would probably go unnoticed.

"What was I jokin' about then, Ted?"

Cringing at the look on the faces opposite himself, Ted decided it was time for more evasive action. Sometimes younger priests need a time out to learn from their mistakes, but it was best that the lay community didn't know that. "Uh, Dougal, could I see you over by the toilets?"

"I went before we left, Ted. You know, you should always-hey!" Dougal tried to cling to the table as Ted jerked him to his feet. "I wasn't done with my food!"

Letta joined the other teens in a small round of chuckling before leaning her head almost on Todd's shoulder. "I told you they were funny."

Smirking, Gaz looked up from her food. "More like stupid."

"There's an admirable quality." At least it was often thought to be so in Christian circles, but Pepito kept that part to himself.

"Hey," Letta protested, "only the younger one is stupid. And anyway, stupid can be funny!"

Todd smirked slightly, the fruit salad on his fork paused just above his plate. "Like when you tried to make that cake, and it was too runny so you kept adding more and more powdered sugar?"

"Squee, everyone makes mistakes like that when they're young." She rolled her eyes as she lifted a hot dog toward her mouth.

"That was last week!" Leaning back toward the gazebo floor, Todd dodged the hot dog that had changed course as Letta apparently decided he should shut up and that a full mouth would do the trick! "Ah! No, I don't wanna eat that!"

Gaz looked up from her game and the hot dog that she was eating one-handed again. "Whiner." They were even more annoying that the seven-year-old on her left, who had been eying her Game Slave since the funeral with his beady and wanting child-eyes. Sure, to everyone else he looked innocent enough, but those eyes were hungry: hungry for what was rightfully and unquestionably hers. She sent him an extra glare for good measure.

"Oh, hush, Todd! It's just a hot dog; it's not gonna hurt ya!" Letta turned sideways so that she had a better angle to try and force feed him.

"Won't hurt me? Do you know what those things are made of?" Just the thought of it made him sick! Only vegetarian or kosher hot dogs were exempted from the madness. As he took in the upside down world that seemed to sway, he wondered briefly if the Antichrist could eat kosher food.

Pepito grabbed Todd's arm, pulling him back up some. "Amigo, you're going to hit your head."

"It would be worth it!" Writhing in his grasp, Todd swatted clumsily at the weenie that was now much closer, threatening to drip ketchup onto him. "Get it away!" He finally managed to slap it out of her hand and onto the ground, where it was snatched up by a vicious looking squirrel, just as Brain's patience finally seemed to wane.

"Children, please! This is a somber occasion!" Brian wiped splatters of ketchup from his cheek as he sent them a stern look. He sighed as they all settled down before turning back to the adults. "So, Johnny, you and Elize seem to be spending a lot of time together lately ...." He raised sandy eyebrows, letting the question ask itself.

"Yes. Yes we are." Scooting further from Elize, to the very edge of the bench on his side of the table, Johnny glared at Mr. Devil across from him, his knife hand making several involuntary grasps when he received a wide, knowing smile in return.

Letta rolled her eyes. "What he means is, are you dating her?"

"What! No! We're not dating! She is simply my ... my!" He couldn't get the words out! And Mr. Devil was smiling even wider! It was that goddamn contract; it wouldn't let him reveal the truth! Instead, he felt his lips moving of their own, or more likely the Devil's, volition, saying things that were so disgusting and untrue that had the universe not been such an inherently shitty place, they would have been unspeakable. "She is simply my fiancé!"

Elize grimaced slightly at Johnny's last word before forcing a smile onto her face. She knew that Señor Diablo had made him say it, but that kind of commitment was still a scary prospect to contemplate. In fact, Brian seemed to be the only one at the table, besides her boss, who was distinctly pleased by the news. Rosemary looked as though she wanted to say something, but knew that it would have to wait until later, and down the table, both Todd and his purple-haired friend were staring at them in disbelief. Pepito had buried his face in Todd's shoulder to hide what was surely laughter.

"Oh! Well, congratulations to the both of you! Have you set a date for the big day yet?"

"Uh, no, not yet. We're still in the process of-" Elize jumped when Johnny's voice rose to cut her off.

"We're gonna get hitched on Valentine's Day!" Johnny rose from his seat on legs made unsteady by rage that he still found himself incapable of expressing. "And then we're gonna make sweat, sweat love until we gots us lotsa babies and we don't gots no time to do it no more!" Holy Hell! What the fuck was happening to his grammar! As if the mere _concept_ of what he was saying wasn't putrid enough! He wanted to lunge at the Devil, to run away, anything to make that verbal vomit cease, but it was as if he was glued to the spot! Well, at least he had found something that seemed to disturb Elize as much as her touch bothered him ... if only he hadn't found it just as horrible ...

Brian was no longer smiling. "Ummm ... okay." Johnny was starting to sound as bad as that horrid comic he put out! Maybe it was some kind of creative exercise that he did before writing another strip. His thought process was disturbed when he spotted Dib and his father, mid-argument, making their way through the gate and into the park.

A woman was with them. By the way Professor Membrane was holding her arm, he thought at first that maybe she was his date, but when they got closer he realized that he recognized her, though just barely. He hadn't really spent much time with Todd's parents over the years as they had never seemed very interested in the the boy's treatment. His eyes widened at his own last thought, and he immediately stood to receive the small group.

"Hey, S-squee," Letta nudged him as her eyes lingered where her father was facing, "you know that thing that isn't real?"

Sighing at a subject that he was very much unfond of, Todd turned to face her with a impatient tone. "Yeah."

"Well, I think it's ... coming this way."

Following both their lines of vision, Pepito spotted the subject of attention, assessing the situation easily with his powers. "She's alive." His voice was only slightly puzzled. He had known that she, unlike Todd's father, hadn't been in Hell, but that hadn't necessarily meant that she was _alive_.

"No. No way. She ... she can't be." Todd shook his head, refusing to accept what he was seeing just as Gaz spoke his next words.

"No one could have survived that blast." And she knew because Zim's moon base had measured both explosions as soon as it had picked up on them. "She would have had to have gotten out before."

"She was in no condition to do that, even if there had been time after I left." Todd grimaced at the memory of her limp body lying in a pool of goo, jolting like a suffocating fish. He stood up shakily as Letta and Pepito did the same on either side of him. Many of the adults were standing as well.

Membrane came to stop in front of his son's much needed therapist, pulling the woman slightly in front of him for inspection. "Doctor Douglas, it seems that I am regrettably too late to stop the funeral, but I believe that this woman is Jennifer Casil." He spared a shocked boy, whose face resembled the woman's, a brief nod. "I saw her on the news last night, then in my kitchen this morning. She seems to be in shock, making her overly receptive to the suggestions of others, such as my poor, insane son here. You see, his little friend perished in the accident, and he is convinced that this woman has somehow taken on that boy's consciousness! And he had convinced her as well!"

"Oh! Oh my goodness! That's ... that's incredible! Wonderful! That she's alive, I mean!"

"Yes! But now, good doctor, it is up to you to fix both her and my son!" He thrust the woman toward him.

"But-" Brian started to protest. The truth was that he already felt in over his head with personally handling Todd and Leon.

"But not together! Of course!" Membrane overrode him effortlessly. "Not until they have both recovered! Otherwise the delusion will persist!"

"What!" Zim broke away from both men, taking on an aggressive stance. "How dare you try to decide the fate of ... of me!" Obviously, claiming to be Zim wasn't helping. He was tempted to tear into them with his pak legs to prove it, but then the Dib might not let him work on his body anymore. Or he might come up with a plan to capture him as soon as he was in it .. .though he probably shouldn't let himself forget that that was still a possibility anyway. "I decide my own fate! And I have decided that I shall stay with the Dib!"

Father Dougal's eyes went wide at the drama before him as he and Ted made their way back to the lunch table. "Uh-oh, Ted, I don't like the looks of this."

"You're right there, Dougal; we don't need to be involved in any more scandals. It's bad enough that the woman we just buried is standing in front of us now."

"Is it like that time that Father Jack died, but then it turned out that he wasn't dead after all?"

"No, Dougal, this is much worse. Drinking cleaning products is one thing, but being blown up ... well, that's quite another! And it won't look good for us either! No, this is big! Cloning dinosaurs big!"

Membrane shook his head, ignoring the two priests that seemed to have just rejoined the group. "I'm afraid that's out of the question. My son is quite insane enough as it is!"

"Hey!" Dib threw his arms into the air to attract attention, letting them fall loosely to his sides afterward. " I'm standing right here, ya know!"

"I'm sorry, Dib, but it's true. And I don't have the time to watch you constantly to make sure that you and this woman aren't indulging in this Zim fantasy of yours! The world needs me! Face it, son, she is a mental hazard for you!"

"Oh, come on! You don't have the time to watch me _constantly_? Zim's been living with us for two weeks, and this morning was the first time you even noticed!" He pointed at his sister when he spotted her in the back of the group before him, still eating a hot dog. "Gaz! Tell him it's true!"

She swallowed the last bite. "Yeah, sure. Whatever."

"Daughter, this is no time to be funny! Son, her name is Jennifer." Membrane's voiced came out a little worn. If Dib didn't get it together soon, it was likely that he never would. He would be crazy forever. "And you know I work at home as much as I can. It's just difficult to tell when you have a guest because I hear you talking to yourself so very often ... about _insane_ things."

"Ahem!" Brian looked worriedly from the still aggressive-looking woman to Professor Membrnae. "I'm not quite so sure that my house is the best place for someone of such a ... lively disposition. Under the circumstances, I think that it might be best if she stays at the institute while in recovery. I would, of course, be willing to offer her services from there."

"Well, if that's what you think is best, doctor." Membrane's goggles flashed again. "I must be getting to the lab, but I will give them a call now if you'd like."

"That would be very-"

"No! Wait! I'll be better! You'll see! Look, I know I am not the great and mighty Zim! See me, now, being all _normal_, and human and not-Zim-like!" Zim skipped around in the human body, stopping momentarily to pick small, weed-yielded flowers from the filthy Earth ground and pass them out to some of the pigsmellies surrounding him.

"See! See how happy and well-adjusted I am! Z-_I_ have no need of this pitiful and useless 'institution' of which you speak! And no need of the Dib! I will go forth into the world, forging a new and fulfilling life for myself!" A new life which would have to include sneaking in to see the Dib and visit his moon base until he could claim his new body and cast off that disgusting human vessel.

"And what about your son?" Brian worked hard to erase the scowl from his face. That woman probably had some kind of amnesia related to the trauma of what she had undergone, so she probably wasn't just rejecting Todd ... as she normally did.

"My ... son?" Zim cringed at the thought of the body he currently occupied having actually birthed offspring, something that his, far superior, species had ceased to do long ago. And even before that, they had lain jiggly, gel-based eggs instead of the horribly messy and painful process of giving live birth like the humans.

Todd grunted irritably. It seemed that Zim hadn't even realized that the host he had taken was his mother. Or her body at least. He had no idea if Jeniffer Casil's consciousness was still in there somewhere. He was relieved that another energy being like Shmee wasn't the one pulling the strings, and slightly, ashamedly, relieved Zim was alive ... kind of. But Zim had never been his favorite person to be around, and after he had so carelessly handed him over to Bitters, the last thing he wanted to do was _live_ with him.

"Ohhh!" Zim's blue eyes landed on the glaring boy that several people had glanced at at the mention of his having an offspring. "Oh, yes, the Squeaky-kid! Of course! I will ... uh, I will gladly take him off your hands so that we may dwell together in mutual human filth and affection!" He smiled reassuringly.

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" Todd took a few steps back, closer to the picnic table, as he shot Brian a pleading look.

"Don't be silly, worm-baby of my ever fruitful, _burning_ loins!" Why humans always described their 'loins' as 'burning' was beyond Zim. He felt no pain in that area! Maybe his pak had taken care of that. But it was important, now more than ever, to blend in with the Earth-swine! He rushed over to the Squeaky-kid, doing his best to hide his distaste as he flung the human arms around the cringing boy, whom he now matched in height, he was pleased to note. "Hyumun children belong with their parental units, do they not?"

"Don't you _touch_ him!" Pepito jerked one of the arms free, stepping partly in between her and Todd and giving her the best death glare that he could muster while keeping up his human guise. The feeling that he was getting from her essence was like nothing he had ever sensed before. It reminded him of possession, but not exactly. The secondary, and dominate, presence wasn't a spirit or an energy being. It had to be Zim. And that certainly wasn't a good thing.

"Now, now," Brian said as he attempted to pull all three of them apart, "I'm sure this situation can be resolved without threats or dramatics." Surprisingly, Jennifer was much more willing to be dislodged than Pepito, but he did manage to convince him as well. "Mama, I'm afraid that you can not take full custody of Todd until you have proven yourself of sound mind. I don't know if you have insurance, but the Defective Head Meat Institute has a program for-"

"Nooo! Don't lock me away! I-I," Zim stammered, at a loss, "I don't remember who I am! This ... this _Dib_ creature is obviously _insane_!"

"Hey! Zim, you ungrateful jerk!"

"Silence, crazy worm-child!" He turned back to the Dib's brain manipulation drone. "But, please! Do not doom me to a padded cell when my only chance of remembering lies with you and that child! Surely, if I spend enough ... time ... with him, something in this pathetic brain will be triggered!" Lowering the the human head so that brown hair veiled its face, Zim did his best imitation of GIR after the inevitable loss of one of his toys, sniffling and blinking enough to cause a tear to roll down the cheek. "And ... if not ... well, at least I would have a chance to get to know him again. To rebuild a life that might have been lost forever!"

Todd sighed deeply as he watched Brian's eyes glisten with liquid sympathy. His counselor was always a sucker for a sob story, always drawn to the needy and lonely and usually blinded by their plight. It was almost certainly what had drawn him to Todd, but now it was working against him and for Zim. He felt Pepito lean in close to his ear.

"The necklace is still keeping you safe, Amigo, but if you want me to get rid of him ..."

Instinctively, he shook his head in the negative. Zim was horrible and completely untrustworthy, but now that Bitters was gone, he probably wouldn't be a huge threat. And he might have some of the information that Pepito and his father apparently hoped to get from Shmee. And, of course, there was also the small fact that he was currently in his mother's body. "Its okay." The words were said with a weary sort of resolution, aloud because they weren't just meant for Pepito. If these kinds of things were going to keep happening to him, he might as well learn to deal.

* * *

END CHAPTER!

Notes:

--The reference to Zim's pak taking for Dib's "pitiful, human mind" comes from the script for 10 Minutes to Doom: Dib steals Zim's pak, and Zim's brain is slowly drained of intelligence and Zimminess (after 10 minutes he would've died). The pak takes Dib as a host, like it is now taking Todd's mom as one, except that his body did die here.

--My high school math teacher, now a college engineering professor (at my college! Yes, things like that do happen) used to do the "BOOOM!" thing whenever he solved a problem on the board or whenever any of the class did so. In the audio for Moopiness of Doom, Professor Membrane does the same thing, expect he does it when an answer or step in a problem is wrong (when Dib messed up on an equation because his life has no meaning without Zim).

--Catholic Funeral Info:

-www . fisheaters . com/funerals . html

-www . cuf . org/Faithfacts/detailsview . asp?ffID262

-I saw the story about Jesus bringing his little friend back after getting him to kill himself on the history channel a while back, but I can't remember how old it is or where it comes from. Obviously, it's not Bible cannon. Still, nearly everything we think we know about Jesus' life was made up hundreds of years later. And this part wasn't meant to be offensvie, just illuminative of how children might deal with having that much power before they've fully developed morally.

-The Black Pope is the head of the Church of Satan.

-Father Ted (and Dougal McGuire) belongs to Arthur Mathews, Graham Linehan and Trick Hat Productions. http : /en . wikipedia . org/wiki/FatherTed

-Squee, JTHM and Invader Zim characters belong to JV, not to me!


	17. Chapter 17

**Sublime Awakenings Chapter Seventeen: Coming Together**

**

* * *

**Warnings: Strong language, strong sexual themes, violence of a self-inflicted nature

* * *

"Sooo," Leon paused when Todd looked up from the counter at him, only continuing when he returned to his task, "what are we gonna do today?"

Todd sighed at Leon's chipper disposition as he poured just enough milk into a bowl of cookies to make them moist. Brian had yet to break the news to him about his parents' probable demise because no bodies had been recovered, but two nights ago, the contents of Leon's grandfather's house had been found in a landfill. "We're going with Letta and one of my friends to buy some new clothes for Z-_Jennifer_. And then we're going to the grocery store. And tonight, after Brian's gets off of work, we're going to see Noddle on Ice."

Moving the milk over another bowl, this one half full of genuine cereal, Todd filled it enough to cover the chunks of wheat, placing it on the table for Leon along with his own bowl of cookies. He put the milk back in the refrigerator, exchanging it for a bottle of chocolate syrup before taking a seat across from him, ognoring the fact that he was eying his food jealously. This was going to be a long day.

Todd had finally returned to skool on Wednesday, and, as expected, he had received a lot of unwanted attention from students and faculty alike. Everyone wanted to know what had really happened with Bitters at the elementary skool, and nearly everyone suddenly wanted to be his friend because of his new-found, and hopefully fleeting, semi-celebrity status. A food fight had even broken out on Thursday over whose table he was going to sit at at lunch, though luckily, Gaz had intervened to save him ... and make him sit with her. And, of course, Dib had expected detailed reports from him on Zim, the problem with this being that he didn't care to actually monitor Zim's every irritating move.

"Squee, what the hell are you doing?"

He glanced up from his, now syrup-covered, cookies to see Letta standing beside the table giving him a disturbed look. "Making a cake." Smiling at the shake of her head, he cut through the cookies easily with his spoon to take a bite.

"A cake?"

"Well, not the kind of cake _you're_ used to."

She snickered to herself, rolling her eyes at his repetition of her own words from the last time she had tried to make a cake. "Ha ha. It's funny because you don't know what it means." Suddenly another thought occurred to her, prompting her to abruptly stop her laughter, pulling red-tinted sunglasses down to give Squee a more serious look. "You don't, do you?"

"No ..." He shook his own head, meeting her gaze with resignation. "I don't want to, do I?"

"No." Letta shot him a big smile as she poured herself a glass of orange juice. "I'll tell ya later."

"Oh, thanks." He dropped the sarcasm when she sat next to him, still looking oddly at his food, to give her a real explanation. "I'm trying to gain some weight."

"God, I wish I had that problem."

"Greetings, fellow beasts of stink! It is glaringly bright this filthy Earth-day, no?" Zim waltzed into the room of foodenings in a housecoat that had been lent to him by the Dib's head-manipulation-drone, taking a seat beside the Squeaky human that was supposed to be his ... son. He cringed once again at the thought. At least he wouldn't be going to work with the manipulation-drone today. Though it was what the Earthlings called a 'Friday', probably in honor of the invention of the snack food know as 'fries', it was a skool holiday today. The one called Brian had work while the smeets where free, and he had decreed that it would do them all some good to get out of the house for a while.

"You!" He pointed one of the pink, stubby digits that he was currently reduced to at the Squeeky-kid. "Bring me waffles!"

Pausing with a spoon full of cookie an inch form his mouth, Todd blinked at him from across the table. "Don't tell me what to do. Make it yourself."

"But! You! I am Z-I am your superior! You must do my bidding!" The human hand fell to the table as he felt at a loss. The other two were staring. "But ... the Dib always made me waffles ... and that ... Brian-human-"

"Yeah, well, you're not my patient or my pet alien so you can get your own food." Todd looked back up for a second. "And if you don't take a shower today, people are going to suspect things." Actually that last part of just for his own comfort since Zim hadn't taken one since he had moved in.

"I am not the Dib's _pet_ anything! The Dib is the one that belongs to me, filthy Earth-child! And in the coming days of Irken domination, his serving of waffles to Zim will not be forgotten! And your refusal has been dually noted as well!" Zim smirked to himself, imagining the Squeak being reassigned to the status of a lowly waffle-drone under his rule. He tried to ignore the dig about his personal hygiene, which he knew to be disgusting. Human bodies were so full of smell! But during his stay with the Dib, he had been taking gel showers in his moon base every couple days, and now he had nothing but ... _Earth-water_. Thus far, his experiences with the toxic, polluted substance had not been pleasurable.

"Oh. Okay then. Zim." Todd smiled to himself as he returned to eating his breakfast. Zim was so easy to manipulate. All you really had to do was hit him where he was most sensitive, namely his pride, and his whole facade would crumble like an old skool building. At least for a few seconds.

"I am not Zim! I am a normal, _human_ Earth female! And you, _son_, will address me as such!"

"Sure. I know." The alien had at first tried to fool them all, Todd included, into thinking that he was really just a confused Jeniffer, but that plan had been crushed after a few minutes of Zim and himself being alone in the same room. Of course, Todd himself had to pretend that Zim was the woman who had brought him into the world, but not that he liked her, around Brian and Membrane so that they wouldn't have cause to think him insane as well.

"Fine! Then you, Letta-worm! Fetch for me waffles!"

"Zim, right now you're like a log cabin republican to me." It had taken a while, but Letta was now firmly convinced that the person sitting in front of her was actually Zim. Well, it was _almost_ Zim. The personality just fit too well, and the group that he belonged to did have highly advanced technology. The backpack was the same that she had last seen Zim wearing in his basement before he had disappeared with Squee.

According to Dib, it interfaced with his brain so that it was basically a backup of his personality and memory that had attached itself to the nearest living host when debris fell on Zim's body from the collapsing building above. After that, it had activated some sort of force field around the new body in order to reach safety. So, it was _kind of_Zim. Or maybe it was Zim. What really made a person who they were besides personality and memories anyway? But then, what if there were two or three copies? Would they all be Zim? It was a moral problem that she really didn't want to think about, and luckily, it was going to be solved sometime soon if what Dib had told Squee while she had been listening in on the downstairs phone was true.

"How dare you suggest that I dwell in such primitive human living quarters! My dwelling unit was vastly superior to anything on this-er-this continent until ..." his rant lost momentum as he realized his mistake, quickly changing demeanor to something more upbeat, "why, until I came here to be with my darling offspring of course!" He smiled broadly. "And now! I bathe!"

"Oh, good." Letta sighed as he hurried out of the room. "That was really annoying."

Leon nodded. "And smelly." His eyes widened as he looked from his bland breakfast to Todd. "_My_ mommy's not gonna be like that when I get her back, is she?"

"Umm ... I ... uh ... no?" Todd shook his head, having no clue how to answer the question. "I don't think you have to worry about that."

"And yours will be better soon?"

"Well, we think so. But you have to remember that 'better' is a relative term, in this case meaning 'better than Zim'. But a lot of people who aren't very good are better than Zim. My ... Jennifer ... she's not the most ... responsive person. But she's not as annoying. Understand?"

"You don't like your mom?"

"Uh, no, not really. But I guess I don't really know her."

"... oh." Leon gave Todd a sad look that changed to contemplative as he gazed down into the completely yucky cereal.

Todd looked to the blue, plastic clock on the kitchen wall: 9:23AM. That didn't give him much time to be ready considering the early start they were trying to make. At least he had already gotten a shower. "I need to change." He dumped the remaining quarter of his cookies, which had turned out to be a little too sweet with the syrup, into the trash before washing out his bowl and heading quickly up the stairs to exchange his sleeping clothes for some that would be more acceptable in public.

"Alright." To avoid any risky questions from Leon, Letta flipped leisurely through a copy of Liberal Christian Living that her dad had left on the table that morning, not really bothering to read any of the articles all the way through as she savored the last of the orange juice. She was just about to switch to the National Geographic that came to their house for Squee, which would at least have better pictures, when the door bell rang. She dropped her empty glass in the sink, not bothering to wash it as Squee had done, on her way to let his strange little friend in.

On the porch, Pepito waved his mother goodbye as she slowly drove away when the door began to open. He turned around to face Letta, giving her a smile that was just a little too big to be completely real. "Buenos dias, senorita."

"Yeah, uh, good morning?" She shrugged as she opened to door wider. "I took French, but come on in."

"Thanks."

"Squee and Zim are still getting ready."

"Ah."

"Do you want some coffee or something?"

"Sure. Thanks again."

"No problem."

He watched her make a quick dash for the kitchen, hearing her say something chastising to Leon about cookies. He made some retort about Todd doing it, so why couldn't he. Pepito thought sounded pretty normal so far.

"Because Todd's old enough to make his own decisions, jeez. But, uh, don't tell Dad anyway, okay?" Not giving him a chance to answer, Letta quickly made her way back into the living room where Pepito was still standing. "You can sit, you know." She laughed a little.

With coffee in hand, he took a seat opposite Letta, on the couch that matched the arm chair that she had just claimed. For some reason, this felt far more awkward that it had any right to.

"So, let me ask you something." She wished that she had a cup of coffee to peer dramatically over. Instead she slowly crossed her legs, bringing her hands together in her lap as she gave him a pointed look. "How do you feel about ... _Satan_?"

Pepito choked on the coffee, accidentally letting some of it slip into his windpipe. He spluttered, but managed to end a short series of coughs with a laugh. "Ha. What? Satan, really?" He paused to cough again. "I'm not really all that religious, so not very strongly, I guess."

"Good answer." Letta smiled. That was actually a _very_ good answer in her book: much better than any answer that bothered to lend some kind of belief in Satan, even if it was to denounce the fictional being. "So all of that stuff with the game and the souls was-"

"A joke, yeah, something I read in a book. Sorry about that. Just thought it would lighten the mood, but I guess I was wrong." He took a deep breath, abandoning the coffee on a smiley face coaster that lay on an end table to his right, which made him cringe a little at the 'Smile! Jesus loves you!' text that ran around the face itself. Even aside from the Christian aspect, that was horribly tacky. At least his mother had good taste, even if it did tend to fall on the light and fluffy side.

"Yeah. Well, you can't really play with paranoid schizophrenics like that, especially when they're already stressed out."

Pepito didn't know whether to smile or glare at her warning tone. It was actually kind of nice that she cared about Todd after his real family hadn't, but he was getting really sick of the way everyone always seemed to brush his friend's concerns away as delusions. "You really think he's that fragile?"

"Sometimes. You just have to watch his stress level."

Okay, so that was true about Todd's stress, but that didn't mean that everything he said should be considered unreliable just because it wasn't fashionable or conventional to consider those things.

Letta smirked at his sullen look. "You really like him, don't you?"

"Uh, yeah. That's why I'm his friend."

"No, I mean you _really_ like him. You weren't exactly stealthy at the park, you know. All that hand holding." She looked down and back up hesitantly. "I know that it seems like Todd is flirting back, but-I'm not trying to be a jerk or anything-but he probably has no idea what he's doing. He's spent so much time in the DHMI that he doesn't really know what's normal. And I'm pretty sure he likes girls."

This time he couldn't force back the eye roll. This was one of the many things that really rubbed him the wrong way about modern, Western human society. Everything was broken down into false dichotomies, and anything that didn't fit into a socially constructed little box was ignored or persecuted. In the spiritual world, that type of shit wasn't really possible because spirits don't have a set sex, or race, or really even a set species the way biological beings had them, and, having been a part of demonic culture for so much of his life now, the idea was just as foreign to Pepito as being attracted to someone solely based on physical assets without taking the mind and soul into account.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "I like girls too. And boys. And, yes, I _really_ like Todd." He was tempted to add that he liked Todd more than any of the straight guys or lesbians that he had bedded, and there were quite a few because he enjoyed shattering people's illusions, especially about themselves. It was fun and a instant self-esteem booster. Of course, the truth was that he liked Todd more than anyone. But he did have to concede that the first part of her argument, about him not quite knowing what was normal for friendships and gender roles, was true. It was actually another reason that he liked him so much. It made Todd less fake than most people. He wasn't overly conscious of things that might make him seem feminine or 'gay' like most straight guys, and he didn't try to act feminine like some gay guys either. It was ... refreshing.

"Oh, wow. Really? I mean, girls _and_ boys?"

"Yes, really. And sometimes transsexual and intersexed people as well." He could hear the 'are you sure?' in her tone, and it annoyed him even more. But he really needed to get along with her for Todd, especially since he couldn't seem to maintain good terms with the waste lock. And yet seducing her to prove his point was probably out to the question too, so he was just going to have to tolerate it ... for now. Damn it.

"Wow."

"You've said that already."

"Yeah. Uh, Todd's probably ready by now. You can go up and get him if you want. It's the last bedroom on the right upstairs. And, uh, see if you guys can hurry Zim up too."

"Right." Pepito shot her a tight-lipped smile as he left the room, glad to have finally shut her up. Following the instructions, he soon came to a stop outside the bedroom door. Even though he rejected modesty, he did have manners. And, no, they weren't the same thing at all, thank you very much. Modesty involved a false expression of being humble so that one could impress others ... really more an inversion of healthy pride than its opposite, while manners were the unspoken rules of the social contract that civilization required: social lubrication. They were a show of respect to those with whom one interacted, which he would always try to put forth until someone proved themselves unworthy of his respect ... which happened quite a bit actually. Once this happened, he would smite them as he saw fit.

He knocked on the door, softly at first, then harder after there was no reply. Finally, he took it upon himself to open the door a crack. "Amigo?"

When the sound of Pepito's voice managed to slip through the noise that Letta's hair dryer made, Todd quickly switched it off, pulling his shirt over his head on the way to answer the door. "Hi." He opened the door widely, closing it after Pepito had passed through.

"Hi." Pepito gave a him a quick once over, from his bare feet to his newly blow-dried, shorter hair, watching him run a hand quickly through it. Todd's hair really was much more manageable than his own. It hardly needed product, whether shorter or longer, making it perfect for touching. But he resisted the urge, sure that Todd wouldn't appreciate that. "You almost ready?"

"Almost."

Pepito took in his surroundings, plopping down and lying back on the rainbow-print bed. He reached over to pick up what turned out to be a yearbook from pile on the nearby desk. "Nice room by the way."

Sitting on the end of the bed, beside his sprawled friend, to put on socks and shoes, Todd frowned at the pink yet again. "Yeah, it's Letta's."

"Aww. For a moment there I thought that you shared my fascination with Catholic skool girls." He nudged Todd with a booted foot, gesturing to the pictures of said skool girls that were displayed throughout the room.

"_You_ like Catholic skool girls?" Todd paused his tying of the second pair of shoe strings to shoot him an quizzical look.

"Well, as far as skool girls go, the Catholic ones tend to be the kinkiest. The boys aren't bad either, but their uniforms aren't as enticing." Shrugging, he turned the book in his hands around to show off the uniforms. "There's something about repressive environments that makes people really want to go all out when they get the chance."

Laughing a little, Todd shook his head. "I don't even know why I bother being surprised anymore."

"Because life's more interesting that way. And because you know it makes you look adorable when you get all excitable."

"Yeah? I know a whole lot of psychiatric staff that would whole-heartedly disagree with you there." His hand unconsciously ran over the vein in his left arm where he usually received tranquilizing shots whenever he refused the pills.

"Well, they're all just a bunch of blind, bitter morons." Pepito closed the book and sat up. "Want me to blow them up?"

"No."

"Sure?"

"Yeah. Thanks, though ... I think."

"Any time."

"That reminds me, last night Brian told me something that's kind of ... interesting."

"Oh, yeah?"

"He said that my grandfather died, apparently sometime the night before my parents' funeral ... of spontaneous human combustion. In his will he left my father a lot of money, which now goes to me."

"Oh. Well, that's good, isn't it?"

Todd sighed. "For me, I guess it is. I can't pretend that I liked Hatey at all or that the world isn't a better place now that he's not in it. And the inheritance will help with college and stuff ... I could probably get a car. But I think you know why I brought it up."

Pepito raised a brow, suggesting that he didn't.

"Oh Hell, did you do it?"

"Nooo, Amigo. I didn't ..." He stopped suddenly, realizing that his lies were probably going beyond the point of necessity now. "Okay, I did. But I told you I was going to, remember? And I did it before I knew your mother was still among the living. What if he had tried to get custody of you? Mother would have tried her best to intervene, but with only your testimony to go on about his insanity ... well, it wouldn't be easy."

Todd smiled at the redirection that the answer had taken, leaning over to surprise Pepito with a hug. "Thanks."

"Seriously?" In shock, Pepito returned the hug loosely. He had never expected Todd to thank him for killing someone.

"Yeah. I hadn't even considered that he might try to adopt me. And I'm glad you told me the truth, because, really, I probably wouldn't have believed you if you had denied it anyway. I mean, come on, spontaneous human combustion?"

"Hey, it happens sometimes."

Todd pulled back to give him a incredulous glance, brow creasing slightly. "_Spontaneous_? Just for no external reason at all or because old, overweight people fall asleep with a cigarette?"

"Heh. Sometimes it's drunk people too. Hatey overdosed on cough syrup."

"But he didn't smoke."

Pepito shrugged, then smirked. "They found cigarettes at the scene."

"Nice." The word came out partly sarcastic, and Todd frowned at himself. He probably shouldn't have been taking someone's death so flippantly, but it was hard to find any real sympathy for the old man that quite likely would have made a second attempt on his life.

"Now we just need to get Zim out of your mother's body, and see if she's still in there somewhere." Though even then Todd might not be able to live with her. Considering her previous state of existence, Pepito would be surprised if she was even capable remembering her last name, much less of holding down a job. Brian might be willing to take him in until graduation, which was less than two years away, but if not he was certain that his parents would be receptive to doing so ... especially now that Todd had the key.

"Oh yeah, Dib said that the new body should be ready in a few days time. He, uh, wants me to be there ... in the moon base, in case Jennifer wakes up after the pak is removed. Do you maybe wanna come? You wouldn't have to help or anything."

"I'd love to. I've never been off world before. And you know I don't mind helping you, Amigo."

"Helping me doesn't have to involve killing Zim, does it? Because Dib is really paranoid about that."

"And with good reason, but no. I suppose I don't _have_ to kill him if you don't want me to. Although, if he ever puts you in that kind of danger again, I'll have to." It was probably a bad idea to kill two people that Todd knew, for Todd and on separate occasions, in less than a week's time anyway. It might make him think that Pepito thought that killing was the answer, and a very easy one, to all of life's problems. It wasn't, and he didn't. Not to _all_ of them.

"Thanks again."

Damn! Too late. He was going to have to work on that. Hopefully, things would calm down enough that he could. He cleared his throat. "So, is Leon still doing alright? How's your relationship with him?"

Todd sighed. "Research for your father?"

"Not exactly."

"He's been relatively normal ... especially considering who his father supposedly is." Personally, he still found the prospect doubtful, but if he went as far as a DNA test and it turned out to be true, then ... who knew what would happen then? Nothing good. He shrugged. "He's smart for a little kid. He likes to read ... and critique things and make up new storylines. His mother is-was a writer of children's books, and they used to do it together. He still doesn't know that she and his granddad are dead."

Pepito nodded. Reading, writing and smarts. Todd was probably going to get attached. "And your relationship?"

"Awkward." He laughed. "I guess I make it that way because I'm always questioning why he does things in the back of my mind, whether Shmee is there watching or influencing or even controlling sometimes. He likes me too much, I think."

"How so?"

"Okay, say I'm watching TV in the living room alone. Or reading alone. Or doing almost anything outside of my room or the bathroom. If he's not really occupied with something else, he'll just drift in and sit by me and ask me questions."

"Questions?"

"Mostly normal stuff like what words mean or questions about what we're watching or how to do something that I'm currently doing. Sometimes little kid questions like my favorite food and color ... but it's almost more like he's confirming it for himself, like he already knew, than like he's just getting to know me. That's what you wanted to know, right?"

"Yeah, it is. It sounds like Bitters broke the connection between the two of you when she merged Shmee and the child. Or it could just be staticy now, muffled by his being in another body."

Todd shivered a little at the thought of still having a parasitic energy being attached to his person, even one that had saved his life. "Great."

"I could find out for sure, if you want me to."

"Really? How?"

"Shmee is an energy being. Even though he's not from this planet, I do have a lot of experience with astral or energy beings ... and the spiritual aspects of the body, enough to tell if he's still connected anyway."

"That was pretty vague, Pepito." All he had really said was that he had the ability to find out again! Maybe the procedure was painful or something.

"I'll need to give you a type of check-up, basically."

"Are you asking me to play doctor with you? Because I don't do that until at least the third date. And this isn't a date." Never mind that he had never actually been on a date.

"Ha. Would it be creepy if I asked you out on a date-or three- now?"

"Just a bit."

"Later then." His grin waned as he became more serious. "Really, Todd, don't you want to know?"

Todd looked down with a sigh. "... yes."

"And you trust me, right?"

He meet Pepito's gaze with honest, but reluctant, resolution. "... yes ... mostly." He looked down, feeling like he could kick himself. Pepito had never done anything to deserve his personal mistrust except be born who he was, and they had been friends long enough that that shouldn't matter anymore.

"Then just lay down and relax, okay?" He cracked a small smile. "Oh, and, uh, unbutton your pants."

"I ... fine. But this better not be like last time. And it's really embarrassing, so no more smart ass comments."

"Agreed," Pepito stood up so that Todd could lie down lengthwise, "but it's not as if I've never seen you naked, you know."

Kicking off his newly tied shoes, Todd felt his face heat up at the reminder that Pepito, Dib and Gaz had all probably seen him nude ... and at least one of them probably had to touch him to clean the blood off. That was awkward, and he found that he wasn't sure that he wanted to know the details, even though there should have been nothing sexual about the event. He nodded it away with a brief acknowledgment as he did as advised, unbuttoning his jeans and lying back down on top of the covers, scooting to the inside so that Pepito would have room to site upon the bed if he wanted while he did whatever it was he was about to do. God, this was weird.

Discarding his own footwear and crawling back onto the bed on his knees, Pepito made himself comfortable beside Todd's prone form. "I'll need you to take deep, calming breaths. This may sound stupid, but imagine that you're exhaling all your stress and inhaling tranquility." He would have told him to imagine a place where he felt safe and happy, but he thought, sadly, that Todd might not have a place like that. This place, his counselor's house, was probably as close as he had gotten. Pepito decided that he would fix that someday.

Todd was vaguely aware of his mouth forming a small smile. Everything was so serene and warm that it was hard to remember why he had been resistant to the idea to begin with. And then Pepito's hand touched his arm, very softly running up and down, and the warmth increased ten fold.

"Is this okay, Squee?" Pepito paid close attention, probing Todd's soul just the tiniest bit as he became progressively used to the feeling. When Todd shifted closer, mumbling an accenting sound, he used his other hand to lift his shirt, moving his hand over the chakras in his neck and chest in a soothing manner. He knew those weren't places that a parasitic energy creature was likely to attach itself, but it was better to ease into the place that he was going to have to touch.

Slowly, his hand traveled downward, rubbing circles just under Todd's belly button as the other one unzipped the pants. He felt Todd's muscles tense up briefly, but they soon relaxed again, allowing him to slip his fingers under the underwear that was exposed when the pants were unzipped. He had to bite his lip to subdue a rush of unwelcome hormones as he continued the rubbing motion on his lower abdomen that even he had to admit was unavoidably suggestive.

Todd wasn't sure how long it had taken him to adjust to the feeling of Pepito's hand down his pants because at the moment time felt like it was made of polyester, but he had eventually managed to relax again, even though he thought relaxing a very perilous thing to do under the circumstances. Suddenly, though the hand didn't deviate form its course, Pepito's touch felt deeper, stronger. The warmth was magnified again, but this time it felt almost like an explosion. His breath caught, and, despite the embarrassment, his eyes flew open to meet Pepito's, even as it felt like energy was still circulating through his body from the point of contact. "What ... what was that?"

"Don't worry, Todd. That's just ... an inevitable consequence of being touched in your pelvic chakra so directly." Pepito closed his eyes in concentration, his fingers centering in on one particular spot in the very middle of the area. "Do you feel that? It's a laceration from where Shmee reattached himself to you, right over an old one. That one's got a lot of scar tissue, like it was never really allowed to heal over the years. It seems that since his race doesn't usually let go of someone until they die, they don't have to worry about dislodging without causing injury."

"S-scar tissue?" Todd looked down at the pink, creamy skin that had grown even pinker under Pepito's touch. He had accumulated a good deal of scars over the years, but as far as he knew, none of them were on his lower abdomen.

"A spiritual scar, Amigo. Because Shmee is an anaphasic life form. He uses those pointed tentacles of his to latch on here." He touched the scar again, with a little more pressure, watching as Todd squirmed.

"I ... think I felt it. But he's not attached anymore?"

"No, he's not, but it wouldn't be good to leave the damage here. Can you feel this?" Pepito's hand stilled over the scars, shaking just a little as he summoned up healing energy, letting it flow through his hand, being directed by his hand, to wrap around the wounds.

Swallowing hard, Todd felt his breathing pick up as the first prickles of panic started to gnaw at his mind. It was a familiar, unwelcome feeling that he was still struggled with on occasion. And this did seem to be a worthy occasion. "Pepito, are you ... touching my soul?"

"Yes." Breathing evenly to focus on a task that he had not often preformed, Pepito let his free hand find Todd's own, squeezing it reassuringly, but not daring to give that question the full attention that it probably deserved. "I would never hurt you, Todd. Just try to stay relaxed."

Todd nodded even though Pepito's eyes were still closed, returning the grip on the hand. He let his own eyes drift slowly shut as he felt another familiar feeling: Pepito was sending him the slothful energies again, but this time, he supposed, he wasn't supposed to be fighting them. In all likelihood he had probably been feeling their effects from the very beginning of the exercise, but it had been more subtle before now. He gave in to them, letting his body and mind release their tension as a tingling, electric heat coiled within his abdomen. In many ways it was a wholly new sensation, while at the same time containing elements of things that he had experienced before. The hot tingling, for example: that was likely something that not many teenagers could mistake. He thought that realization would have brought the panic back, this time to near maximum capacity, had he not been practically high on the forth deadly sin.

But that wasn't all that was familiar. Something much bigger was happening, the importance of which overrode his surrender to apathy toward his current situation. As the energy wound its way around his spiritual injury, tightening as it went, an invisible bond seemed to lock his soul with Pepito's. It was as if a barrier had been torn away, exposing the truth of eternity. It was akin to the experience he'd had in the void, but this time through someone else's eyes. The oneness of the universe, of Pepito and himself, blinded him to anything else that might be happening. He suspected that if he had been in the middle of some action, he would have found himself inexplicably frozen, unable to master simple motor commands because this feeling, this love, was too strong to allow him a personal and singular identity that could function on such a small and insignificant scale.

The feeling ebbed, leaving him with a desperate need to bring it back to its former glory, along with an equally desperate throbbing further down. He opened his eyes, feeling himself sit up without ever having decided to do so. "Pepi?"

Pepito's eyes blinked open at the soft sound of Todd's voice, and he gave him a small smile, glad that he had managed to hold back any insecurities until he was finished with the healing process. "Yes, Amigo?"

"Kiss me? Please?"

With his hand still in place, he looked deeply into Todd's eyes, easily making out lust, which wasn't a surprising outcome with all things considered, and something else, something more. He knew that he should have more control over this situation, that what they were both feeling, what they were both no doubt seeing reflected back at themselves, was a product of his previous ministrations, of the necessary connection that was required to heal the spiritual injury.

"Todd ..." The name came out as a whisper laced in longing, making what was meant to be a deterrent into something that fell more than short of that function. Pepito took in the scent of oatmeal and almond as he felt Todd sit up further, an arm reaching around his chest to pull him closer. Then Todd seemed to hesitate, seemed to be examining his eyes, his expression, closely, before scooting even nearer so that their lips were almost touching.

Being closer to Pepito eleviated his need only slightly, seeming at the same time fuel it like an addiction. His fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt as they both leaned closer and closer, finally meeting in a gentle kiss that was entirely too intoxicating. The next was harder and longer, but it still wasn't enough. He wasn't really sure what could be ... if anything could be. That was kind of scary, but he didn't want to stop; he wasn't sure that he _could_ stop.

Pepito had to rearrange himself with less grace than he would have liked when Todd lay back, pulling him down and on top of him. Technically, he could have moved his hand by now, even with the energy still attached. He _should_ have, but the desire to keep it there was immense. He pushed Todd back into the pillows, returning the kisses as fiercely as he was receiving them. His hand moved down further, feeling the beginnings of hair that was a little courser than that on Todd's head. Todd moaned into his mouth, and he wanted to go even further, though he knew that soon enough he wouldn't need to, if the forming bulge against his leg was any indication.

Very much defying his own wishes, Pepito moved his hand up instead, running it up and down Todd's chest again. This time he could feel his soul much more deeply because their energies were still attached, and it was incredible: soft and comfortable and delightfully fulfilling, like a surprise trip to a favorite vacation spot where you always wished you could live. He pulled back from the kissing to laugh a little, figuring that that was exactly how best friends were supposed to feel. But a good best friend probably wouldn't be doing what he was doing right now. Sighing, he kissed Todd one last time before summoning up the will power, and he did need a lot, to stop. Sitting up, he withdrew the energy bond slowly, paying no heed to Todd's needy groan at the automatic distance that fell between them.

Todd's breath quickened again as all contact was broken, but the small burst of panic was quickly sated with an intense wave of calm from Pepito, whom he was looking up at with watery eyes. When he had calmed down to the point of almost wanting to go back to sleep, he felt the manipulative feeling leave as well. This time he was okay with it, and his mind started to clear. He immediately turned beat-red, rezipping and buttoning his pants and wanting to hide under the covers. "Ummm ..."

Pepito looked away sheepishly. "Sorry, Todd. I didn't ... mean for that to go as far as it did."

Sitting up again, and hugging a pillow to his chest, Todd shook his head. "It ... uh, it was my fault. I started it. But it was really weird. It was like I couldn't even help it almost."

"Yes. That can happen sometimes when you're completely open to someone else's soul. Especially when that person happens to be touching your Sacral Chakra. It's, uh, related to things like emotional need, sex drive, relationships and addictions." He looked back to Todd, meeting his eyes in a meaningful way. "Also violence and creativity."

"Oh." Todd's mouth fell open when the implications sunk in. "_Oh_. Shmee."

"Yes. That's why he would prefer to connect with a host there. That way he could fuel or suppress certain factors to his liking and feed more easily and directly."

"So, was that ... was that not real? I mean, emotionally, was it just-"

"Mostly ... I think. It's hard to say really. I don't usually touch anyone deep enough for them to lose conscious control." Or for _himself_ to start to as well! "I think that was more of a spirit and soul thing than a mind thing, if you know what I mean."

He continued when Todd gave him a curious look. "Spirit is the energy side of all things; it's where the connection to the sublime comes from, and it exists beyond space and time and matter. Souls are kind of an individualized and more developed form of Spirit. Not all living things have them ... individual cells like sperm and ovum don't, for example. They are developed to different levels and in different ways in different species, and to some extent different people within the same species. They usually lie beneath the surface of your conscious mind. It contains a lot of memory and emotion that is communicated back and forth from and to the mind. And the mind, obviously, is the ego, the individual, waking self. It's the part of you that will actually die when you do.

"All spirits have an innate attraction, and here I don't necessarily mean sexual attraction specifically, to each other because at a fundamental level they're all a part of the same primordial being. Souls are more discriminating as to attraction, but not in the same way that minds are. Soul attraction isn't about mundane or material things, but about a type of personal spiritual fulfillment. It's resolution is often described as a feeling of coming home. Most people don't know their souls well enough to understand when this is happening, and they often feel like they don't understand or know why they feel attraction to a particular person, place, belief system, what have you. There is sometimes a sense of destiny or that they have meet that person in a previous life ... sometimes they have." Pepito smiled, feeling as though he was explaining the spiritual equivalent of the birds and the bees.  
"That's kind of like the three part psychology model."

"Heh. Yeah, but more like Jung's than Freud's. But it's been a part of magical traditions for a long time. Take the Lovers card in Tarot: Adam and Eve and the Angel. Adam, the middle-self, represents the self-conscious intellect, while Eve represents the soul or lower-self and the Angel represents the God-self or Spirit. Magic is done by connection with the God-self, but in order for that to happen, your mind must know your soul."

"Adam and Eve and the 'Angel'? That sounds very ... Satanic." He hadn't really thought that the more mainstream occult was very saturated with Satanic imagery before, despite what Father Fred had said in Church.

Pepito smiled. "Doesn't it though? Especially how the Fall, on an individual level, is understood as the height of spiritual growth. And I didn't even read that in a Satanic source."

"Really? That's kind of odd." Todd let out a small laugh, glad for the small, but enlightening, conversation that seemed to distract from and ease the awkwardness of the situation, though he was still bothered by something. "Do you think that Shmee's attached to Lee in a similar way?"

"I would have to examine him to tell for sure ... but ... after this I don't think I'll personally be healing him if it's attached there. Even I have an age limit ... well, in human terms anyway. But, according to Bitters' computer, they've been fully merged. Shmee may be feeding on him, in fact, he probably is, but not in the same way that he would feed on a host. In theory, every cell is connected to Shmee's energy."

"Then should they be inseparable, but you said something at the park about your father thinking maybe not."

"Well, likely they are, but similar mergers sometimes occur between demons and humans. Like anaphasic life forms, demons are made of a kind of energy, so it should be a very similar process."

"You mean like possession?"

"Yes, possession ... and absorption."

"Absorption?"

"I'm not sure there's a simple word for it, but it's basically when a demon, or a human soul in some cases, embraces another soul so strongly that it leaves its natural body and well, merges, with their energy, their soul. At first the soul is strong, but over time it weakens and its voice dies down. It becomes a part of the one who took it so much so that it can't really be said to exist as a sentient being anymore."

Eyes widening as some of the previous panic returned, Todd scooted back, though he couldn't go far with the headboard of the bed two feet behind him. His grip on the pillow tightened like it used to with Shmee when he was younger. He felt bad again when it earned him a hurt look from Pepito, and he forced a small smile.

"I guess you can see now why I didn't tell you this _before_ I checked for an attachment."

Todd nodded. "S-sorry, Pep. It's just ... have you ever-"

"No. And it's not something that's very common or favorably looked upon by most demons either. There are stories about it, of course. Humans tell horror stories about it sometimes ... about demons who feed on souls that make them more powerful as they're absorbed, such as that Teddy Crueger person. Demons tend to tale tragedies about it."

"Tragedies?"

"Well, it is pretty tragic a lot of the time. In one story a Knight of Hell falls in love with a mortal woman who is married to a man that he was charged to kill. She was faithful both to that man, whom she loved, and to her religion. Because of this the knight allowed her husband to live, and only dared approach her in the human guise of a kind old woman. Years passed, and the husband died of natural causes, and the old woman 'died' as well. The knight approached her again, this time as a handsome man. The woman adored him as he adored her, but would not agree to a romantic relationship as her religion forbade her from remarrying. She wanted to go to Heaven to be with her husband, though, of course, in Heaven all marriages are nullified anyway. So they continued their friendship until she was very aged. He was at her bedside when the time came, and that was when it happened.

"He couldn't bare the thought of existing without her, knowing that she was forever out of reach. So he took her soul into himself, allowing her body to die. He tried to keep her happy within himself, but she was doleful and frightened. Though the fear passed, through much effort on his part, she was never truly happy in that state. They retained a type of friendship for several more years, but every day the woman was little less herself and a little more him. She talked to him less, and the things that she said were out of character. Eventually, the knight had to force any communication that he might want from her, but couldn't tell if it was really she that replied or a figment that he had created in her likeness to replace his love, who had ceased to be."

"That's ... terrible. Is it a true story?"

"It's a fiction based on elements from several true stories."

"Why ... why does that happen? Is it related to the soul attraction that you were talking about ... the resolution?"

"There are different reasons and motivations." Pepito sighed. If he had been talking about the birds and bees a moment ago, he felt like this might be something like the equivalent of rape-murder. "Some have their source in aggression or a quest for power. We've had human souls try to gain demon status that way before in Hell. And some are more like the story I just told you. I suppose it is a kind of dysfunctional resolution in cases like that. It fulfills the attraction completely for a brief period, but after one soul has been completely absorbed, and after they've been known so completely, the pain of their absence as another being is overwhelming and sometimes never ending."

Todd looked down at the rainbow patterned pillow he was still holding. He tensed a little when he felt the mattress shift as Pepito scooted close to him, but he remained where he was this time, meeting his gaze again when he gave the key around his neck a small tug. "Does it ever happen on accident? During something like what we did?"

"Rarely. With young demons or newly discarnate souls that don't have enough experience or self-control. They sometimes go deeper than they can handle and get carried away. But I know what I'm doing, okay? I wouldn't have offered had I thought that might happen. Even if I lost control, the key wouldn't let it happen. It would match every pull on your soul with an equal one to keep you alive."

"Even if my soul doesn't want to fight it?" The words came out in a whisper.

"Yes. Look, Todd, don't worry about that, alright? What we just did was more akin to a minor merging. I only needed to go that deep for healing such old and traumatic damage. It wouldn't have happened if our souls had merely touched, and it's not going to be a frequent occurrence. You don't need to be afraid of this."

Todd's hand reached up to enclose Pepito's, which was still holding the key. "And I can't do it to you either, right?"

"No, Amigo. Even if you had the power, the lock has the same very basic protection that I told you about when I gave you the key. And I should probably mention that without a solid knowledge of healing, you should steer clear of being brutally maimed; I've heard it's even less fun when you can't die."

Letting out a sigh of relief, Todd suddenly appreciated the key like never before, at the same time making a mental note to spend less time with Johnny ... or at least less time anywhere near his basement. He was startled when Pepito used their linked hands to pull him closer, placing a quick kiss on his lips before letting go and retreating into his own personal space.

"Are we all better now?"

"Yeah." He managed a real smile. "Sorry about that. I think I'll probably always be a little paranoid about certain things. I mean not about you. Just about situations like that ... and parasites ... and other microscopic creatures that live in beds, vinegar and drinking water."

Pepito laughed, knowing that the list could easily keep going if Todd had felt like be thorough. "It's fine, Squee."

"So," Todd let himself relax more, moving a little closer himself this time, "demons write fiction? I mean demons in Hell?"

"Yes. Actually, Hell has a printing press. But my point, before we went off on that tangent, was that there have been instances when absorptions have been reversed, and obviously possessions usually aren't intended to last for large lengths of time and can be forcefully aborted in many cases. In Leon's case, I'm not really sure which situation would be a better comparison. Absorption is more difficult to remedy and time sensitive at that. Also, I don't know how stable Shmee's energy pattern would be afterward if we managed to extract him."

"But you do think that he needs to be extracted?" It was a worrisome prospect because Todd didn't know if that would harm Shmee or Leon or if one of them was harming the other in their current state. He still kind of wished that that information hadn't gotten out to his little circle of friends. Mr. Diablo had, of course, found out via the All Seeing Eye when he had used it to find him, and had shared the information with his son. And Zim had told Dib, who had told Gaz. It was a very small victory that Letta had yet to find out.

"Perhaps. Although, as I said before, there may be a way to talk to him without doing that. It may be possible to simply bring Shmee's personality to the surface for questioning. There is a very real possibility- no, make that a probability- that Bitters' people are still going ahead with their plan. It doesn't make sense for her to have been the only one on this planet doing research because that would be extremely inefficient."

"That's what Dib said too. Ugh." He buried his head in the pillow, effectively muffling his next words. "Why can't this problem just go away?"

"Heh." Pepito pulled the pillow away, throwing it further back on the bed. "Sorry I don't have ultimate comic powers, Amigo. But the focus shouldn't be on you so much anymore, so you don't have to be very involved with the investigation if you don't want."

"Yeah, right," he laughed "then I would have to break in a whole new set of friends. But really, I think I want to help. I owe you guys for helping me with Shmee. Plus, quitting now would be like stopping in the middle of a book."

"Very well." Pepito was tempted to kiss him again, but instead busied himself with putting his sneakers back on. "I finally talked to Father about the Nephilim."

"O-oh. What did he say?"

"Well, you know how the Christian Bible is a convoluted and plagiarized rendition of history and mythology, right? You mentioned that the flood story is a rip off of the Epic of Gilgamesh, which referred to a flood from Sumerian mythology at the park."

"Yeah."

"Well, the flood was a more localized event, and not a complete flooding of all land on Earth. There isn't enough water on Earth for that."

Todd nodded a little impatiently. "I know."

"Good. Since it was a localized flood, Noah and his family were never the only people left behind, so there would have been survivors. And Father says that other people besides the Hebrews gained some angelic traits during that time anyway. Most people who exhibit preternatural abilities, like being able to see and talk to energy beings, read minds, and other such things without instruction are descended from them. Even so, many regular humans can learn some of those skills with a lot of effort, and training can help people descended from the Watchers or similar sources become more adept as well."

"People ... like me?"

"Yes. Father traced the genealogy on your mother's side back to one of the leaders of the two hundred Watchers by the name of Penemue. I think you'll at least like this part: he taught humanity the secrets of writing."

A small grin formed on Todd's face at the last information. He had already decided that he was going to try his best not to let the probable confirmation of his having a small amount of distant nonhuman ancestry bother him weeks ago. "I do like that part."

"I'm glad you're taking this so well." Once his shoe strings were tied again, Pepito rested one foot on the frame of the bed, elevating his leg so that he could plant his elbow on his knee and the side of his face on his hand to give Todd a sideways smile in return. " It's an advantage over other humans in many ways. Except in the context of Bitters' plan."

"The percent that she wanted to take?"

"To harvest, yes. And ... people like me too. Apparently we're much better hosts than regular humans. "

"Like you as in ..."

"As in human children and decedents of my father or his demons ... I'm not the only one, you know. Your ancestors and my father were angels from two separate rebellions, but the races and the outcome of mixing with humans is roughly the same. All but ten percent of that group of angels were imprisoned in a place of total darkness. Only twenty remain as demons to move between Heaven and Hell, tempting humans ... which basically means teaching them things that Jehovah doesn't want them to know ... along with seducing them most likely.

"Part of the ones they're interested in are descended from energy beings that are gods and demons in other religions as well. The general term for all such children is 'cambion'. We're kind of the blurry line where those astral realities converge, which is perfect for Shmee's race, meaning that all of us, and possibly the Earth in the process, are in danger. That's why we need to find out what Shmee knows about the plan."

Todd slowly shook his head in the affirmative, taking in all the new information. Pepito seemed like an endless well of knowledge, and even though some of it, most of it, managed to reach new levels of disturbing, he found that he was still very interested. "So, how would we-" He stopped mid sentence when the door burst open, and Letta fumed in, annoyance seeming to radiate from her body.

"Todd! What are you two doing just sitting around! It's been almost an hour, and you don't even have your shoes on!"

"Uh, sorry, Letta. We lost track of time."

"There's a clock right there!" She pointed sharply at her old night stand.

"Oh." Todd followed the path of her finger, eyes lingering on the digital clock like he had never seen it before. "Well ... Zim is still in the bathroom anyway."

"God fucking damn it! Okay, put your shoes on, and be ready to go in like five minutes. We'll drag his ass wet if we have to." She left the bedroom door open, striding into the hall to bang on the bathroom door. "Zim, what the hell are you still doing in there? We're about to leave!"

Todd cringed, leaning over to speak softly to Pepito. "Sorry. She usually gets like that when she's running late for some kind of deadline."

"Humm." That was very similar to Pepito's own reactions to stress, though he thought he had a much higher tolerance threshold now, after the years of practice with subduing his anger to help keep his infernal nature well hidden.

"Zim! Jennifer! _Whatever!_ You better say something before I come in there!" God! This was like practice for parenthood of the most annoying brat in the word! Her hand gripped the knob, ready to turn just as a desperate voice sounded from within.

"No! Do not enter the cleansing room that holds the shame of my former glory! Zim commands you to stay put!"

"Whatever," she murmured to herself before raising her voice once again, "I hope you're decent!" She pulled the door open. "Oh! Holy shit!" Todd and Pepito came up behind her to view the gruesome scene before she was able to find intelligible words. "What happened? Do you need help?"

"I require no help from the likes of you, hymun! I need _no one_! Now close the door and let me be!" He moved forward a little too quickly for the undocile human legs, slipping all too easily in the fluid that had leaked from that pathetic body when he had attempted to upgrade it to something closer to Irken standards, at least in appearance. Before reaching his goal of the door knob, he went crashing to the ground, where the house coat that he had just dawned would no doubt be stained for life.

Pepito had to hold back a laugh at the sight of the Irken-possessed woman semi-nude with bleeding cuts and abrasions covering nearly every visible bit of skin flailing around on the floor like some retarded evolutionary dead end. "Why did you shave all your hair off? That's not really going to help you blend in."

"Make silence, worm-child! I ... I will blend in with a wig! A _wig_, as is fitting to one such as myself!" Zim pulled himself to his not-so-mighty human feet once more because dramatic yelling didn't feel as effective from the floor. "And I will have no more of this filthy _fur_ all over the meat-body that I inhabit! Or these, these horrible ... _things_!"

Todd looked to the carpeted floor of the hall when Zim ripped open the house coat to display his mother's breasts, though the unexpected, momentary image that was now burned into his brain was enough to tell him that he had probably tried to cut them off. And just when he thought nothing could make him even more traumatized!

"What are they good for! Absolutely nothing! What sort of miserable specimen grows ridiculously humongous lumps of fat on it's body for no reason!"

Letta shook her head, wishing dearly that her dad was home to take care of the lunatic. "Zim, those _are_ there for a reason. Why do you have such issues with hating women's bodies?"

"Lies! In what you people call 'mammals', mammary glads and nipples are there for a reason, but this-this! It's completely uncalled for! What other species has inflated mammary glads when it's not feeding young! As if _that_ process wasn't disgusting enough!" He grit the fragile and flat human teeth together, irritated even more by the grinding noise it produced. His issue wasn't with the female body! It was with the _human_ female body! Superior, Irken women didn't have mammary glads at all! Much less such freakishly repulsive features as these!

"The mammary glads aren't actually filled out of season; they're just surrounded by fatty tissue for aesthetic purposes," Pepito chimed in almost happily.

"_Aesthetic_ purposes! You think this looks appealing!" Taking hold of the revolting slabs of calorie storage, Zim pulled them both in opposite directions, as if he might get lucky and they would come right off. They didn't, but a lot more liquid the color of his old eyes ran down the human body. "Eww."

"Fuck, Zim, you really do need help. You have to stop the bleeding before you need a hospital!" Then her dad would be in deep shit, even though the institution had demanded he come in to work today, and he would never trust her with anything like this again. He probably wouldn't let Todd stay the night with her either.

"Noo! Stay away! I'm warning you!"

"Someone get some towels and alcohol from the linen closet!"

Only daring to look up once he had turned around, Todd made his way back into Letta's room to get the small amount of healing ointment that was leftover from his various scarps with death. On his way back, he stopped, staring at the phone. There was really only one person who could deal with this kind of insanity.

* * *

END CHAPTER!

**NOTES:**

-The "not the kind of cake you're used to" thing is a joke from Boy Meets World. I probably shouldn't have used it here cause it falls kind of flat if you don't know the whole pic, so: Cory and Shaun are best friends (with lots of gay subtext). Shaun goes out with a girl that doesn't want him seeing Cory anymore, so the two sneak around together. They meet at their fav place to play pool and Tapanga (Cory's gf) tells Shaun's gf, who shows up there and catches them together just as Shaun is wiping chalk from Cory's nose. So, she's all like "Shaun, what is this?" And he says, gesturing toward Cory, "This? This is cake. Well, obviously it's not cake; not the kind you're used to." And the word cake is sometimes slang for sex (sometimes specific sexual acts).

-"Sanskrit cakraṃ चक्रं, Phonetic pronunciation "chukr", Pali: chakka, Tibetan: khorlo, Malay: cakera) is a Sanskrit word that translates as wheel or disc. Chakra is a philosophical concept used to describe wheel-like vortices which exist in the surface of the etheric double of man.[1] The Chakras are said to be "force centers" or whorls of energy permeating, from a point on the physical body, the layers of the subtle bodies in an ever-increasing fan-shaped formation. Rotating vortices of subtle matter, they are considered the focal points for the reception and transmission of energies.[2] There are seven major chakras or energy centers (also understood as wheels of light) located within the subtle body. Hindu and New Age tradition believe the chakras interact with the body's ductless endocrine glands and lymphatic system by feeding in good bio-energies and disposing of unwanted bio-energies.[3] "

"Svadisthana: The Sacral Chakra  
Svadisthana or adhishthana is located in the sacrum (hence the name) is considered to correspond to the testes or the ovaries that produce the various sex hormones involved in the reproductive cycle. Svadisthana is also considered to be related to, more generally, the genitourinary system and the adrenals. The Sacral Chakra is symbolized by a lotus with six petals, and corrosponds to the colour orange. The key issues involving Svadisthana are relationships, violence, addictions, basic emotional needs, and pleasure. Physically, Svadisthana governs reproduction, mentally it governs creativity, emotionally it governs joy, and spiritually it governs enthusiasm."

-http :// en. wikipedia . org/wiki/Chakra #The_Seven_Major_Chakras

-Most of what Pepito says about the three part model of the soul (including the part about Adam, Eve and the Angel) is from True Magick: A Beginner's Guide by Amber K, with some interpretation.

- Teddy Crueger = Freddy Krueger.

-Penemue, ("The Inside") in Enoch lore,[1] was one of the Watchers/Grigori. He "taught mankind the art of writing with ink and paper, and thereby many sinned from eternity to eternity and until this day. For man was not created for such a purpose."[2]

Penemue also taught "the children of men the bitter and the sweet and the secrets of wisdom."[2] He is one of the curers of stupidity in man mentioned in Bereshith Rabba

http :// en. wikipedia . org/wiki/Penemue

http :// en . wikipedia . org/wiki/Grigori#Partial_List_of_Grigori

-For a kind of preview for ch 18:

http :// kailean . deviantart . com/art/Paranormal-Digest-SubAwake-103573745


	18. Chapter 18

**Sublime Awakenings Chapter Eighteen: Getting Out More**

**

* * *

**Warnings: Minor violence and violent intentions, sexual references/jokes/implications, offensive language, freakish medical innuendo

* * *

Zim whimpered loudly as the alcohol covered clothe touched the frail human skin of his temporary body, instantly regretting showing such weakness to the Dib, who had applied the horrid substance. He jerked his arm away, moving back further into the shower and finding himself trapped by three walls and a paranormal investigator. "Stop! Zim will have no more of this primitive 'medical care'!"

Shifting closer, into an even more cramped position, Dib rolled his eyes. "They said you've been wallowing around on the bathroom floor ... _why_ I don't know. But you're going to need to clean the wounds before they're healed or you might get an infection or some kind of septic positioning." It was too bad that Gaz wasn't there. She was better at medical stuff _and_ at forcing others to do her bidding regardless of their own pain or wishes. Instead she was on a _date_ with _Chunk_ ... at 10:40 in the morning, which was kind of a strange time for a date now that he thought about it.

The Dib forced the rag onto his skin again, and he screamed, slapping it away. "Get back, feeble Dib-beast!" He'd had to reduce the amount of painkillers that his pak had been feeding him to gain more mental levity as he seemed to have been going a bit insane earlier, and now the alcohol stung the way that the Earth water no longer did against his new cuts.

"Look, Zim, if you just cooperate, I'll let you drive my rover today, alright? You'll be one step closer to getting your license and perfecting your stupid, transparent disguise."

"Zim's disguise is _brilliant_! It has held good for five miserable Earth years and counting!" Until a couple weeks ago when it had pretty much been presumed dead. He should probably create a new one when he got the new body, but he really didn't want to change his ingenious alias. Maybe they would believe that he, like the Sqeak's parental unit, had had temporary amnesia, mixing aimlessly with hobos and street performers until the truth of his amazingness had all suddenly come back to him. "How do I know that you're not trying to poison me yourself with this horrible, painful, stinky fermented sugar product?"

"Because I'm rubbing it on your cuts, not pouring it down your throat, Space-boy! Now let me do this or-" He closed his mouth to make sure none of the rubbing alcohol got into it when Zim suddenly jerked the clothe away from him, pulling it back and smacking him in the face with it. Removing his glasses to dry them on his shirt, he glowered at the triumphant look he was now receiving. "That's it, Zim."

"Eh? That's what, human?"

"It. That's just _it_." As soon as glasses were back in place, he reached behind him to grab the whole bottle of alcohol, thrusting it forward to hit the naked female body with several hefty splashes.

"Ahhh! The burning!" Zim panicked, darting one way and then another, running into the shower walls and the Dib, who pushed him back against the back wall again.

Stepping forward, and still purposefully blocking the exit, Dib turned the metal knobs, causing water to pour down upon Zim. Small droplets splashed him as well, and he was glad that he had brought spare clothes for this expectantly hazardous endeavor.

Zim breathed deep and fast as the water washed the pain away in a way that he found very unnatural, setting the Dib with an ill-boding smirk. The Earthniod fool wasn't even realizing his mistake! Moving swiftly, he reached out to jerk him closer, into the falling water. His pak legs were dispatched, blocking the, now open, exit and slamming the Dib against the wall of the human cleansing unit a little harder than strictly necessary. "Do not underestimate me Dib-wad! Just because I am currently reduced to a mere shadow of my former Zimmy glory doesn't mean that I can't still crush you like ... like the thing-to-be-crushed that you so are!"

Swinging his feet inches above the floor of the shower, Dib winced as the pak arms tightened their grip on his shoulders with each of Zim's words. It wasn't enough to do any major damage-it never was-but it still hurt. He could barely make out the alien's human face through his glasses, which were being pelted by a steady stream of water that made the outsides wet and the insides foggy. "Alright, Zim! _Alright_! I get it. I'm sorry, okay? But you're being irrational!"

"Irrational? Zim? Never!" Zim dropped him all the same, smiling as he slipped and fell on his butt at the bottom of the cleansing unit. The pak legs turned off the water before retreating, and he stepped out of the shower to apply the healing cream.

As he dabbed the stuff on his self-inflicted injuries, he admitted, but only ever to his superior and worthy self, that the Dib might have a point. Ever since he had been in this body, he had felt different. His pak wasn't programed with the human system in mind, and the transition wasn't perfect. It didn't override all of the emotions that it would have with an Irken, and when one considered that his pak had never been up to standard in that area to begin with ... it was an uncomfortable prospect.

He was drawn from those thoughts when he heard the Dib chuckling behind him, and he turned to face him, seeing that he was still sitting, soaked, in the cleaning stall. "Hey, what's so funny?"

Dib forced himself to stand, feeling the weight of the water tug on his clothes as if inviting him to stay on the floor. "You."

"_Me_? Zim?"

"And me too. But you wouldn't understand." Dib shrugged as he pulled his wet, blue shirt over his head, hanging it over the top of the shower door to dry.

"Psh. My intellect is greater than that of any human. So, tell to Zim this simple Earth-joke, and let us see if my understanding of it does not surpass even your own!"

"Fine, but you're not gonna like it. I was just thinking that stuff like that, like what just happened here, is why everyone thinks we're together-er, why they thought that before we started pretending it was true, I mean." A pair of black pants joined the shirt, and Dib reached for a towel, both to dry off and to hide himself while he dropped his boxers.

"Don't be ridiculous, Worm-boy! That was an obvious show of my dominance over you and your sad attempts at poisoning me!" Gaze lingering on the same pair of alien boxers that the Squeak had been wearing at the Pepito-worm's, Zim realized with a shudder that they had belonged to the Dib all along. It seemed a freakishly intimate gesture to him, seeing as how Irken underwear, as well as most clothing and other belongings, only came in an impersonalized standard issue.

"I told you, I wasn't trying to poison you! I was trying to help you. And that's technically the closest I've ever been to what you call 'disgusting human mating rituals'."

The soft blue eyes that Zim currently watched him with widened. "Eww! Dib-thing, that is quite possibly the single most disturbing thing that _anyone_ has ever, _ever_ said to the mighty Zim!" He gagged a little, realizing that it was true for himself as well, and grabbing a clean towel to wrap the healing human body in. "The mere thought! It fills my guts with churning sickness! The sickness, it _churns_! Like Vortian butter candy!"

"Jeez, Zim, calm down. It's not like I meant that as a _good_ thing. It's more pathetic than anything really. And your fault. I'm just saying this is the kind of thing that makes people assume we're together."

"No! There's no denying it now, Earth-monkey! You have already unveiled your true baloney-meats! You loove me! You love Zim!"

"Zim, no I don't-"

"Lies!"

"No, really, I don't. I was just saying that-"

"Silence! It's too late, Dib! Your underpants have already spoken, and there is no use in denying what the pants command!"

"The pants ... command ... things? _Pants_?" There was no doubt about it, as if there ever had been: Zim was completely and truly insane.

"Yes! Pants, Dib! Look at them! Just look! They bare testament to your undying, revolting loove for Zim!" He pointed a wiggling, melodramatic finger at the object of his distress.

Dib looked down at the underwear on the floor, wishing that he still had them on under the towel. "That doesn't mean that I ... that I ... love you, Zim. Those are just stereotypical little green men. They're not supposed to be little Zims or anything."

Zim's eyes narrowed in suspicious disbelief. "You don't loove Zim? You just love little green men? _All_ little green men?"

"Nooo. I ... I have all kinds of underwear; it doesn't mean anything."

"Ha! Your lies are more transparent than my human disguise!" He stopped, cringing at the slip. "Wait ...."

"Whatever, Zim. Believe that I love you if that's what you want. I'm going to put on some dry clothes."

"I will, Dib-thing! Oh, I will!" Zim shouted at his retreating back, just realizing the implications and adding more as the door closed, "Not that I want to believe that because I _like_ you or anything!"

In Letta's empty bedroom, Dib redressed himself quickly, fuming quietly to himself about Zim's stupidity. "Stupid lizard, always assuming _stuff_. He's the one who goes around acting like we're together, even outside of skool! He's the one who wrote 'luv' on that idiotic note that he left me!" His eyes widened as the rest of his face went slack. "And he's the one who would have kept me instead of letting Bitters take me with all the other humans that she wanted. No. No way."

He shook his head of the ridiculous idea as he made his way down to join the others in the living room. There was no way that Zim _liked_, much less _loved_ him! He would be seriously surprised if the alien even really knew what love was ... although there were times when it seemed as if he cared about his minions and even felt sympathy for some humans. But still! It really was ridiculous.

Todd died in the video game that he, Letta, Pepito and Leon had been playing when Dib slouched into the room and sank into the couch on his right. "Hey." He tossed the controller aside.

"Hey."

"Is he okay now?"

"Yeah. For the maniacal alien that he is. He thinks I love him. Because of the boxers."

"Oh."

"Oh? What does 'oh' mean?"

"Just 'oh'." Todd shrugged awkwardly, elbowing Pepito, who was sitting on his left, when he snorted at the comment.

Letta looked at Dib from one seat over. "Hold on, boxers?"

"The alien boxers," he clarified, "Lots of people have alien boxers, and most of them don't even _believe_ in aliens, much less have secret crushes on them! But does _Zim_ understand that?"

"You showed him your boxers?" She raised a brow.

"... no." Dib stared straight ahead, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.

"Then how'd he figure out they were yours?" Pepito dodged a blast from Letta's character, knowing that his question was almost rhetorical because there was no answer that could hold a good defense.

"He saw them when I was undressing."

He got another sideways glance from Letta, who was now even more confused. "You took off your clothes in front of him?"

Dib blushed at how incriminating they were making it sound. "Well, yeah. I was wet, and I didn't want to drip all over the carpet. And we do it when we have gym together." Actually, Zim changed in the stalls whenever possible, probably to hide his hideous alien form, but that information wouldn't help his argument. "Anyway, it's not about that; it's about the boxers, which is just stupid."

"How did you get wet?" Letta swore under her breath when she died from a shot to the head right after Leon, leaving Pepito the winner.

"The aliieen pulled me into the shower with him!"

Pepito smirked, both in gaming victory and because of how easy Dib was making this. "He pulled you in ... against his naked body ... or Todd's mother's naked body?" That sounded a little weird even to him.

"No! Well, kind of, but no! Not like _that_!"

"Dib," Todd turned to him half-seriously, having turned pink and then pale himself at Pepito's previous statements, "I never thought I would ever have to say anything even remotely like this, but, uh, I would really appreciate it if you and Zim could _not_ get my mother pregnant. It didn't go over real well the first time, and I'm thinking that it can only get worse under these kind of circumstances."

"What! Preg-preg ... no! It wasn't _like_ that!" Dib threw up his arms when they all burst out into laughter, even the little kid that didn't know what the hell they were even talking about! "You're all just horrible!" He was just about to start an impassioned speech about how wrong and well, horrible, they were when he spotted Zim coming down the stairs, dressed in an even worse disguise as a human than he had worn as an alien, if such a thing was possible.

"Come, pitiful Earth-smeets! Zim is ready to drive you all through your hideous streets so full of filth, and vermin and ... eh, filthy vermin!"

The words barely sank in as Dib took in the new wardrobe while the 'woman' came closer. It consisted of a wig made of plastic sea weed, a glittery, long sleeved top unbuttoned over a tight black one with a contrasting white tie, a bright pink tutu, more glitter on some kind of tight pants and white gogo boots. "Zim, what are you _wearing_?"

"Yes, yes, I am a master of disguise, but there is no need to allow your impaired hymun eyes linger too long. It will only increase your miserable feelings of loove for how amazing I am, and _you can't have me, Dib_! I am far too above your lowly station, even as a human-er woman."

Dib shook his head. Zim was amazing alright: amazingly retarded. "That ... is not why I'm staring. You-"

"I said look away! Zim is eye candy for no one!"

Todd turned around to add his gaping to the others'. "Zim, you look the hooker from the black lagoon."

"Thank you!" Zim smiled widely. One good thing about being in disguise as a female human, at least, was that it was considered 'normal' for him to cheat natural height by wearing heels and platforms. He was now _taller_ than the Dib by two whole inches! He stepped closer to him to make sure this change was fully appreciated, despite his last command.

"Black Lake, " Letta corrected.

"What?" Todd raised a brow.

"He's wearing my Old Greg custom from the play that I did last semester. Old Greg is a scaly, hermaphroditic man-fish from Black Lake." She smiled. "Pepito would probably like him."

Pepito gave the her a very unimpressed look, trying hard to stop the anger at the obviously monosexist dig from coming to the surface. "Not if he was played by Zim. I do have standards of attraction; they just happen to be very different than yours."

Todd flinched at the exchange. He didn't quite know what to make of it, but guessing wasn't that hard, considering that Letta had a tendency for being a bit over-judgmental and hypocritical of some things, and Pepito ... well, he had a low tolerance for stupid as well a very deep-seated point of view of his own. To make matters worse, Zim looked offended and on the verge of launching into a series of loud and annoying proclamations about how great he was and how unworthy Pepito was. And Dib was obviously still mad from before. "Right! Well, we're already running behind, so we should probably head out now!" He snatched a pair of sunglasses off the coffee table in hopes that they would help him avoid any possible media attention, feeling relieved when Letta followed his example after checking her watch.

Continence changing at those words, Zim strode ahead of the others, stopping in front of the door. "Dib! Present Zim with the keys to your dirt-runner!"

"Oh, no," Letta's voice dropped another notch toward weary. "Zim you can't just disappear with Dib when you two aren't even supposed to be seeing each other! If you're not home by the time we leave for Noodle on Ice, we'll all be in a lot of trouble!"

"Don't be silly, human! I, Zim, shall drive the Dib's dirt-runner to our collective destination, just as he promised!"

Dib sighed. He should have known that Zim would hold him to it, even if he hadn't really lived up to his side of the bargain. But it did give him an opportunity to monitor his behavior today ... and Leon's behavior ... and really, Pepito probably wasn't a bad person to keep an eye on either. Yep. Lots of potential para activity to be found here. "Where are we going? We should probably all car-pool to save energy."

"Zim," Todd started carefully, "do you even know how to drive?"

"Of course! Zim has been piloting-er ... crafts since before you ..." He trailed off, realizing that it would be foolish to finish the sentence, even in its modified form.

"Before I what?"

"Just before you, human!"

"O-kay." Letta shook her head. Zim's claim to have been 'piloting crafts' longer than Squee was so stupid! It wasn't as if the D.H.M.I. had offered him driving lessons! "Well, we're about to be late for Squee's medical check-up at the Heath Center, so we're going to have to put off all our other errands. Zim, you'll have to wait until we get out of there to drive, and now you're probably wearing that outfit to the mall. I guess we can still all go in your car, though, Dib, if you want to drive. I don't think we'll all fit in mine anyway."

"Wait, my _what_?" Suddenly, Letta's irritable behavior from before made more sense. They actually _had_ been running late for an appointment ... a rather unwanted one as far as Todd was concerned. It wasn't like he wasn't used to being prodded by medical people, but this kind of thing could never end well.

"Sorry, Squee, but I know how you can get about things."

"So you were just going to surprise me?"

"That was the plan, yeah. But," Letta clasped her hands together in an overenthusiastic impression of her dad, "now you know."

--------------A car ride later!-----------------

Todd sat on the exam table at a local Health Center, reading a book that he had managed to grab as they had left Brian's house in case they were in for a long wait. Of course, they hadn't been in the waiting room long before he was called back, likely because they had arrived a little late. Five more unlucky minutes and his appointment would have been canceled. Dammit. The door opened unexpectedly, startling him from the fictional world that he had been enjoying.

In walked a nurse with a clip board, dark eyes focusing on his book. "Hi there. What're ya readin'?"

"I'm rereading 'A Portrait of Dorian Gray'." He closed the book, sitting it behind him on the table so that he could get this over with faster.

The nurse nodded her head as she rolled up his tee-shirt, strapping the cuff of the sphygmomanometer around his bare arm. "You like them vampire books?"

"Yeah. Oscar Wilde is known for his many vampire novels." Todd fought back an urge to add an eye roll to the sarcasm. Some people were very ... advanced ... in the same way that Zim sometimes claimed that his robot dog was advanced.

"She write them Sunset books? I done read me a few of them." She deflated and removed the cuff, jotting down his blood pressure on her clip board.

"O-oh." Wow. Just ... wow. "So, uh, how's my blood pressure?"

"Oh, it's good. Not too high, not too low. Now open yer mouth to say 'awe'." Putting a hand on her hip when he opened his mouth, but no sounds came out, the nurse chastised him, "I said to say 'awe', boy! Like, 'awe, ain't that a pretty vampire with some shiny teeth!"

"Right ...." This time he did as she said, letting her check his throat and ears with an instrument that closely resembled a small, high-powered flashlight.

"Good, good." She disguarded the otoscope. "Ya know, I'm kinda like a little vampire myself." Sending him a conspiratorial grin, she opened her white coat to reveal two vials for collecting blood and a new, plastic packaged needle. She sat all three upon the work desk, turning back to him before putting the first one together to hold up both hands, doing some kind of spirit fingers motion. "Wowee! You ought to see me sparkle when the sun goes down!"

Todd's eyes widened in further horror as she continued readying the equipment, turning back around to face him with needled tube in hand.

"Hold out yer arm and make a fist so as yer vein pokes to the surface. You can pretend I'm a vampire just a suckin' away on yer blood there if you want."

"Uh, I don't think this is going to work for me." He wished that he had worn a long-sleeved shirt so that he could have pulled the sleeve down for protection right about then. If she had still been measuring his blood pressure, it probably would have been through the roof.

"Would it work better ifn' I was to stick the tubes in my mouth so as the needles were to protrude out like a pair of razor shape fangs?"

"No! No, I, uh, don't think that would help at all." His hand moved unconsciously back to grip the book as he scooted off the exam table, inching back toward the door.

"Where you goin'?"

"I, uh, forgot something in the lobby." He took hold of the door knob just as the nurse darted toward him, needle still in hand, grabbing his arm roughly to keep him in place.

"Com'ere, boy! We got everything we need right here! You like needles? I got needles. You like ... " she looked back at the stock table, "vaginal clamps? I got some of them too! What about squishy little heads that fit in the palm of yer hand? I know there's one of them in here somewhere."

"No! That's okay. I really, really need to be going now!" He had thought that these kind of things were going to stop happening to him now! But maybe this was just common, everyday bad luck. Or maybe it had something to do with Leon being present.

"But I'm supposed to be takin' yer blood! Like a little, secret vampire, I am!"

"No means no, lady! No means no!" Todd finally managed to break free of the nurse's strong hold, throwing the door open to make a run for it down the hall, past other exam rooms and into waiting room where the others were slouching on uncomfortable chairs in boredom. "Come on!"

"You done already?" Letta looked up in pleasant surprise, tossing some health magazine back into a basket. "How'd it go?"

"Oh, it was ... fine. Everything was normal, and they'll call the house with test results." He shook his head at Pepito when he sent him a questioning look. Luckily, no one pressed the matter, likely assuming that his nerves were just on edge from the visit. They all shuffled out into the main hall, and he set a brisk pace.

"Squee, why are we walking so fast!" Normally Dib wouldn't have been one to complain, but that Leon kid was practically jogging to keep up and Zim was falling all over himself in the go-go boots. At this point he had finally resorted to locking an arm around Dib's own so that he wouldn't fall, and after what had happened at Brian's less than an hour before, that was distinctly uncomfortable for Dib.

"The nurse said I need more cardio." Todd took Leon's hand, sparing a quick look behind them to see his nurse emerge from the health office. "Walk faster."

They had taken the stairs down to the first floor, against everyone else's wishes, but Todd was fairly sure that they had lost that nurse by the time they reached the parking garage. He was going to be in trouble for this eventually, but it just wasn't worth it.

Now, also against everyone else's wishes, _Zim_ was going to drive them all to the mall so that they could get more clothes for him and Leon. Todd wanted to argue against this seemingly suicidal idea, but a long debate with Zim might give the nurse time to catch up, so he reluctantly climbed into the back seat of Dib's rover. He took the window seat on the right. Because Letta wanted the passenger seat, Dib sat beside the other window, directly behind Zim, with the begrudging air of someone who is used to being given such treatment by his scary little sister.

Pepito had taken the seat to Todd's left, but had been practically forced to move over when Leon had demanded that spot with all the suborn determination of a spoiled, only child. He huffed indignantly as he settled in between Leon and Dib, clicking his seat belt, something he seldom utilized, into place. He watched Todd make sure that Leon's was secure, nodding when the other teenager shot him a meaningful look in reference to his earlier claim that the child seemed to like him too much.

Zim glanced back to make sure that all of the humans were inside the dirt-runner, checking and adjusting everything on the list from Drivers Ed before inserting and turning the key to start the vehicle. He had only been out with the teaching drone from that class twice, but no matter! The woman that he was pretending to be had a license! "Ready your brain-meats for overwhelming astonishment at my superior piloting skills, earth-monkeys! For truly, I am the greatest!"

"That's not what the instructor said last time, Zim." Dib gave the seat in front of him a hefty push that Zim would feel through the cushioning. "Just try not to freak out again. Neither the stop signs nor the red lights are authorized to make an arrest, okay?"

"Lies, Dib-thing! They watch me with their tiny electronic eyes, laying in wait for Zim to make even the slightest mistake! Not that I ever would, of course."

"Whatever. Just back out slowly and don't run into anything."

"Psh." Zim rolled the human eyes as he pulled the lever into reverse, stomping on the go pedal with the clunky platforms. "Backseat driver-monkey." There was a collective intake of breath as the dirt-runner swooped out of the parking spot, turning in a semicircle to come to an abrupt stop just before it would have crashed its back end into another crude Earthenoid transport that was parked two places away. Zim smiled widely at what was surely the confirmation of his previous claim. "See? I am not amazing!"

"Amazing?" Letta gaped at the 'woman' to her left. "No. You need to ease onto the pedals _slowly_. If you hit someone, Dib's gonna be in trouble."

"The Dib will be in ... trouble, you say?"

"Ah!" Dib smacked his own forehead, "Don't tell him that! That's just asking for it!"

Zim's smile grew. "Yes, trouble! Such wondrous _trouble_ will there be! And all because of the mighty piloting skills of Zim! I can smell the delicious stink of victory already!" He rubbed his hands together as his voice dropped lower. "Destruction is nice."

"Riight. I've changed my mind about you driving, Space-boy." Dib reached for the handle so that he could get out and personally jerk the menace from beyond the stars out of the driver's seat, but just as his fingers touched the metal, the locks clicked into place and inertia pressed him back into the seat as the car sped forward.

"Think again, Dib!" Zim cackled wildly as he swerved around the many curves in the downward spiral of the parking garage, only increasing his push on the go peddle when they came upon a mechanical wooden board that demanded monies in exchange for their release from the pitiful dirt-runner storage unit.

The vehicle easily broke through the weak barrier, barreling out onto the wide street that the Earthniods stupidly called a 'high way', even though it was usually flat on the ground! Several other vehicles, most smaller and weaker as the Dib had told him that they were made of aluminum, honked their rudimentary alarm devices at him, which he happily ignored as he continued to dart in and out of traffic with superior speed and skill, even as all of his passengers were busy giving him useless commands at the same time that blended together into an irritating garble.

Hanging on to the 'oh shit' handle to his upper left for dear life, and watching with a great deal of unease out his window as many of the other cars were having trouble sharing the road with them, Dib did the only thing that he knew would stop the mini reign of terror. He shouted at the top of his lungs, making his voice barely discernible over the general panic in the car, "Zim! Slow down! There's a cop watching! From the FBI!"

"Eh? The FBI!" His foot left the accelerator immediately for the breaks, which caused more honking as other dirt-runners nearly ran into the back of the Dib's. "Where?"

"They're ... uh, they're undercover, Zim. Just go slower and everything will be fine." Dib sighed with relief when he complied, though his driving was still haphazard. He knew that while Zim would take pleasure in knowing that he would receive a large bill in the mail for every law that the street cameras recorded his car breaking, there was no way that he would risk an actual arrest for either of them. Not when he was so close to getting a new body. And not when he still thought that the FBI was an organization founded by demons in 1492 for the purpose of fighting aliens ... if only.

"Squee, it's not gonna be like this if I teach you to drive, right?" Letta asked wearily.

"I don't think I'm quite that insane. So no." He smiled vaguely at the passing scenery. Letta had finally found someone who was actually a worse driver than herself. And soon he would have license! Of course, he would need a permit first. That thought was forgotten as he saw a giant, foreboding, inflatable Happy Noddle Boy looming quickly ahead.

"Sweet Zombie Jesus, would ya look at that! Turn in, Zim!" When he didn't comply, Letta's hand shot over to grip the steering wheel, pulling it forcefully to the right to make the turn at a speed that caused one of the the wheels to actually leave the road for a second.

"Keep your grubby paws to yourself, filthy human-beast!" Wishing that he still had enough superior Irken strength that her pull would have meant nothing to him, Zim was forced to slap her hand away, putting on the breaks after the dirt-runner had over run the curve of the parking space that he had deftly maneuvered into.

"Look!" She pointed at a large sign on the side of the McMeaty's building. "They're giving away Noddle Boy toys in the Slappy Meals!"

"Very well, Letta-worm. Since no one provided my feeble human body with sustenance this morning, Zim, as captain of this lowly little Earth-fairing vessel, will permit a small allotment of time for foodenings." He pushed a button to release his passengers from the captivity that the child locks insured. At least the imitation space meats at this place didn't contain germs!

Dib jumped from the rover with a frustrated growl. "Zim, you are _not_ the captain of my car! And you're not driving to the mall after this!" He jerked the keys from the still-gloved human hands.

"Eh? Come back here, Dib-thing! You promised that Zim could drive! Give back to Zim!"

Smirking at the two weirdos that were already running ahead to the restaurant, Letta pulled the other back door open to reveal a glaring Todd who was busy rubbing a new pink lump on his forehead.

"I'm not coming." Todd brushed Leon's hand away from his head, more disturbed that touched by the concern.

"You have to eat." She looked down for a moment. "Sorry about your head."

"You know this place makes me break out in hives. And I don't want to take driving lessons form you. And I asked you to not say that Zombie Jesus thing anymore." Pepito laughed and he shot him a glare too, just for good measure. "It's disgusting."

Pepito climbed out the door that wasn't currently being blocked, coming around to stand behind the Letta. "Oh, lighten up, Amigo. You and I will eat at the Mall, okay? And I'll teach you to drive, if you want."

"Fine," he let out a deep breath, "thanks." Todd allowed himself to be pulled from the car, though he stared back at it longingly all through the parking lot. Pepito really wasn't the best driver either, but at least he could be a patient teacher when needed.

They entered through the swinging glass doors, and a worker dressed as some kind of Happy Noodle Clown handed them a coupon for Noddle on Ice that they didn't need. Todd slipped it into his pocket with a fake smile to make the clown leave them alone, wondering if Johnny thought they were corrupting his warped vision with all of the child-friendly propaganda that Leon was currently taking in through wide eyes.

--------------------SCENE SHIFT!----------------------

Chubby hands tightened on the steering wheel of his brand new red sports car as Chunk turned into the driveway of a decrepit house that seemed as if it was probably being held up by accumulated dust alone. "Are you sure about this, Purple?"

"My _name_ is Gaz. And yes, I'm sure. I'm telling you, Chunk, this guy has the best legal mind in the city. He'll know what you should do to get out of this mess."

"Then why does he live in this dump?" He gave the surrounding houses a quick glance, noting that, though they were a bit on the shabby side, most of them looker bigger and newer than the one they were parked in front of ... not that that was saying much. It was almost as if the town had been built around this one house, but he figured that was just the illusion that disrepair gave out.

"He got tried of the corruption, so he doesn't work anymore. But he still gives advice sometimes." She grunted lowly to herself. "How do you think my crazy brother is still on the streets after all that property damage that he and Zim always cause-er ... caused?"

"Yeah, that pointy-haired freak should have been locked away a long time ago. Uh, heh ..." He mellowed some under her glare. "So, he gives advice sometimes?"

"Well, the thing is, you've got to be completely honest with him. He can read people, see, and if he thinks you're lying, he'll call the cops and tell them you broke in."

"Like _that_ would be a big deal after what I'm already being accused of."

"Accused of?" Gaz raised a brow. "I was at that party, you know."

"Hey, I didn't do anything!"

"Exactly." She smirked subtly. "You just stood there and watched, didn't you?"

"Y-you ... you saw. You're ain't gonna to tell, are you?"

"If I was going to tell, would I be helping you out right now?"

"Why-"

"I still need you to be popular. That would be impossible if you go to jail. And since Zim is ... gone, there's no reason for you to date me ... unless ...."

"Unless you blackmail me. Yeah, okay, you can be my bitch for a while longer, as long as this guy's advice is good."

There was a pause as Gaz took a deep breath to gather her strength, and then Chunk went flying out of the car. She smirked when she saw his face hit the loose soil a few feet away before throwing his crutches out to land on the heap that was his grunting body. "Oh, it'll be good."

There was a terrible screaming raking against his brain. He could see the instrument in his mind, sharp and rusted and moving of its own accord to drag along the terrain of his headmeats, removing dirt and decaying tree parts and leaving behind bloody trails that ached with the sheer gut wrenching pain of consciousness. Consciousness, it was closing in! He knew, and lived in constant dread of, that feeling, but he found the physical sensations that accompanied it quite unfamiliar. Soft. It was too soft, and gave way more easily than a floor, a sidewalk, or even his couch, while somehow still keeping him contained from all sides.

All of the nerves in his skinny frame tightened in ready for whatever he might see, whatever horrible situation he might find himself in. Slowly, he blinked, hating the confusion that flooded his thinking when he was meet with some kind of white film. The film was thin and allowed light to pass through, making an indiscernible pattern visible from what appeared to be a second layer. His eyes felt strange as well. They didn't hurt, didn't cry out for moisture in the sordid air like they should have.

He forced his limbs to move, breaking the rigger mortis-like paralysis that made them feel as though they weighed as much as that fat, psychic woman that had lived in Devi's old apartment building. A crooked smile formed on his face at the memories of stalking her there, half fond and half bemoaning.

Ah, Devi, the one that got away. The one who somehow _kept_ getting away, kept eluding him and refusing the inconsistent apologies that he would attempt every so often when certain moods would strike him. As he had no real sense of time, he couldn't be sure _how_ often, exactly. Most of the time, when he remembered her, he knew it was best to stay away, but he didn't seem to be capable of stopping himself from becoming irredeemably hopeful and idealistic on rare occasions ... very rare occasions. Other times he just felt obsessive, fascinated by the existence of a human being who wasn't complete shit, of a human being who had actually _liked_ him once.

Whatever had happened to her, he wasn't sure. Her last move had been a bad one ... or a good one from her perspective, he figured ... a _tricky_ one in any event.

His thoughts were cut off as the screaming, which was easy enough to ignore when you were so used to it being background noise, was replaced with knocking. He groaned into the film, then tensed again when something rustled beside him, something small that rubbed against his leg as it moved, seeming to borrow into the covers in an attempt to hide from the sound. Something clicked in his mind: covers! He was in bed! The situation was recognized because of its popularity on the TV. There were a lot of late night infomercials on mattresses, after all.

But _why_ would he be in bed? Carefully, he gripped the covers with rail-like fingers, pulling them down to reveal a small, furry beaver curled up beside him, its back pressed against his thigh for warmth. Instantly, he felt the urge to flatten it in a hot waffle iron and was reminded of the thing's name: Waffles.

It stirred again when the knocking got louder, this time apparently abandoning its attempts at sleep. Instead, it stood on two tiny paws, looking at him in mild irritation. "That's rather annoying, you know. Before, I wouldn't have minded so much, but now ... now that I've got this body to look after, I need the sleep as much as you do. And yes, you _do_ need it, Nny. But you appear to have had enough for the time being."

"Ugh!" Johnny's hand seemed to move on its on, doing his bidding before he could tell it to. It shot out, knocking the beaver off of the bed and into a corner of the room, where it let out a small squeak before returning his glare.

"What was _that_ for!"

"For existing, that's what! And what the hell is that racket!"

"Someone's at the door, morning glory. Well, in your case, I guess someone's at the deteriorating plywood board that's barely attached to the rotten wood of this shack."

"The ... the door?" The sound of Damned Elize's voice coming from his other, right, side made Johnny's throat feel dry, his voice coming out in a wheezy, frantic tone, which only got worse when he turned his head to look at her.

From her half-reclining position on the bed, which she had decked out with new, and most importantly _clean_, dressings, Elize smirked at his horrified continence. She angled her body a bit more toward his, though he was under the covers and she was on top of them, bending one knee to show off the red leggings that matched the lacy teddy she was wearing as her hand came to rest on his chest. "That's right. It's surprising you don't belong to Mensa."

As soon as his mind and body were capable of response, which was much longer than he would have liked, Johnny curled his legs up under the covers, attempting to kick her off the bed like he had Waffles. Instead, his limbs and the covers seemed to go right through her, having the infuriating effect of making her giggle. With a frustrated huff, he threw the blankets from his person and heaved himself out of the evil, possessive clutches of the bed. He staggered into the sparse living room, holding his temples as the knocking got louder. "Stupid motherfuckers can't take a goddamn hint! How _long_ have they been there!"

"Only about five minutes," Elize informed with a roll of her eyes as she followed behind him.

The sound of high hills clinking on the wood below annoyed him more with every step, and he rounded on her. "Do you see what sleep does to me! That felt more like a fucking hour! And why are you dressed like that? It's revolting! I can see your ... your secession glads through that ... that thing!"

"That's kinda the point, lover." She winked at him, trying hard to keep her smile seductive instead of humorous.

"Don't call me that! Unlike you, I refuse to be a prisoner to those defective, greedy human genes that only want to form our minds in order to use our bodies to spread themselves all over the planet and beyond like conspiring, manipulative bacteria growing on the corpse of its host and looking for anything warm and moist enough to bend to its destructive and unfathomable purposes!" He paused to take a deep breath before turning back to the door. "I'm coming! Fuck!"

Elize frowned, changing back into her usual outfit with a small shift in consciousness.

"What _hell_ can I do for you?"

Chunk looked the man up and down. He was so skinny that he just _had_ to be some kind of faggot-butt! And his hair was so ... weird and uneven! But he looked familiar from somewhere. "Hey, don't you work at Hot Dog on a Stick?" He looked back to the car with a questioning expression before the man's voice drew him back in.

"No, I don't work there! And even if I did, I wouldn't sale the shit out of my house, now would I! Is _that_ what you've been banging on my home for the last hour about?"

"Dude, it's been, like, five minutes."

"Well, I was asleep!"

"Uh, sorry, but it's already noon, and I've-"

"Do you know how confusing it can be to wake from a sleep?"

"... no. Look, I'm just gonna go." This guy was bat-shit-crazy! He probably shouldn't have expected anything else from Dib's little sister, though.

"Oh, no! No, you're going to tell me what the hell was so important in the first place, and then! Then, maybe I will spare your pathetic little life!"

"Whoa! Calm down, man! I ... it's just, this girl that I know said that you could help me out with this, uh, problem that I have."

"And what _problem_, pray tell, would that be?"

"Aren't you gonna ask me in? It's not really the kinda thing I wanna talk about in public."

"Very well." Johnny's eyes narrowed as he stepped aside. "Do come inside."

As soon as the front door closed behind him, Chunk regretted insisting on entering the run-down place. The only light in the living room that he now stood in came from small cracks between boards that covered the windows, and by it he could barely see a ragged couch, an ancient TV set and a lot of dust. But the worst of it was the smell: it reminded him of the abandoned slaughter house that had been less than a mile from his grandfather's Texas ranch the last time he had visited.

Several long seconds passed in stiff silence before he finally forced himself to start speaking. "It's a, uh, legal problem. It's like this. I was at this party, and I didn' do anything, but I watched something happen to somebody. And I didn' tell anybody about it. But the cops got a, uh, confession from me later ... well, from somebody that said they were me, and now I'm gonna be in trouble if I don't testify in court about what I saw. The problem is that the people that did it, they're pretty popular and they're my friends. If I blow on them, then everybody at skool will hate me, and I'll _still_ end up with probation!"

"I see. Protecting the popular people, eh? The football jocks and the cheerleaders? And why, exactly, are you telling this to _me_ of all people?"

"Because I need you to tell me how to get out of it! Look, I have some money, and, by the looks of this place, you could use it. All I'm askin' is what's the best way for me to get out of all this without telling or gettin' in trouble? I was thinking maybe insanity ... but then I would be unpopular for sure ... unless my parents were mysteriously killed my an even crazier teacher or something." He ended on a begrudging note.

Johnny felt a smile coming on, one that wasn't nice at all. "Alright, I've got it! The perfect plan!"

"Yeah?"

"All you have to do is die!"

"What!"

"As far as I know, once you're _dead_, you're exempt from every legal action besides taxes! Almost no one hates dead people! Except for me." His eyes darted to where Elize leaned against the far right wall, unseen by his visitor in her invisible state, before returning to the teenager. "And you'll be more popular than ever because other people will want to pretend that your leaving behind that hideously bulging hush of a body causes them pain to get more attention for themselves in a miserable attempt to boost their egos, all the time secretly trying to make up for what they lack on the inside with superficial input from others!"

"Umm, yeah, but I don't wanna _die_. That's almost as bad as being unpopular! Isn't there some other way?"

"Almost as bad? No," Johnny said with resolution, "I don't think that there is."

"Argh! Well, thanks for nothing, asshole! This whole thing's been a giant waste of my time!"

"You're entire life has been nothing but a waste of your precious _time_! Nothing but an ever expanding _waste_ in every sense of the word! And I would know because I have to collect it!"

"Huh?" After a few dazed moments, Chuck looked down at his rounded waist, then back up, mustering up more anger to cover the hurt. "Yeah, well, at least I ain't a poor, rail-thin Noodle-boy lookin' pillow-bittin' he-bitch!"

Johnny's left eye twitched. "You wait right there, and I'll be back to give you something that will solve your problem." He stomped into the kitchen, opening random drawers until he found a long knife. By now he was used to them disappearing from his person to be hidden by Elize whenever he changed clothes or fell asleep. Running his finger along the edge to test its sharpness, he decided that it was dull enough to cause unnecessary pain. Good.

When he turned back around to see to his guest, the beaver was floating there in his path. "Move the fuck out of the way, vermin."

"No, Nny! There's no reason to overact to that child! He is just looking for attention, reaching out desperately because he is unloved!"

"Bullshit! He's just like all the other filth trying to make themselves feel better by putting others down! And no 'child' should have such massive ... mass!"

"I agree that the things he said to you were out of line, and that his girth is quite unappealing, but if you'd just see reason-"

"I can't _see_ reason! It's an abstract human idea, like law and order! There is nothing concert or objective about it! It has no direct baring on my life!"

"That's hardly the point. You don't want to kill him."

"Yes, I think I would very much like to kill him."

"No. Not deep down. I can see you, Nny. I can see your past and your secret inner desires. I can see the longing that you've tried so hard to suppress for so long, the longing to find someone who understands, to fit in with at least a few of your own species. But this isn't the way. If you'd just stop killing them long enough to see them, to really see them, you might find that they're not as bad as you claim if you stop threatening to take their lives.

"You-You're saying I just need to learn to make a better first impression?" Johnny's hand shook until he dropped the knife into the empty sink, then fell to the counter to hold on tight to the space between the flat surface and where it dipped into the sink. After everything that he had tried to gain peace over the years, it was so simple. It was preposterous, really, but maybe that meant there was something to it. Just maybe ....

--------------------SCENE SHIFT!----------------------

Todd took a deep breath, looking down at the floor to allow himself a small break from his new surroundings, though it did nothing to stop the hideous mix of clashing songs that barreled from different stores to strike his ears all at once. It was only late September, and already there were Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas decorations and respective music everywhere in the mall! Many stores had all of the colors for the 'upcoming' holidays out at once, resulting in an unbecoming assault to his eyes. He had read once that the holiday season, otherwise known as the shopping season, had been starting earlier and earlier ever since it had been commercialized.

"So, Zim, where are we getting you clothes from?" Letta dug around in her purse to find her dad's credit card.

"Ehh, somewhere with lots of reds and blacks. And boots. And rubber. Lots and lots of rubber. Rubber in the form of pants!" Even after he had started wearing more Earth-based designs, they had still been supplied by his computer. He knew that he would find nothing as suitable as Irken manufactured fabrics on this pitiful planet, but there had to be something better than the ratty, moth-eaten scraps that he had collected from the Squeak's mother's closet.

Dib rolled his eyes at the same old choice in uniform as well as the insane comment at the end that reminded him of a mooching demon he had been had by years before. "Trendy Subject, then?"

"No, not the Trendy Subject," Todd sulked.

"We don't have to get it all from one place." Letta shook her head, then smirked. "Besides, you just don't wanna go there cause you don't wanna see your boss next door."

"So? What's wrong with that? And it's more that I don't want Rob to see _me_. He'll tell me to start coming back to work."

She laughed before mocking his tone with the same question. "What's wrong with that? You do work there."

"Yeah, but ... I just don't want to yet." Technically, with the money he would be getting soon, he could probably quit, but he wasn't sure yet. Part of the reason he had taken the job was because Brian had said it would help him with social interaction and self-assertion, things that he generally disliked and tended to avoid, but admittedly probably needed.

"Todd, you need to just suck it up already. You're going to have to rejoin the world again eventually."

"I know ... I'd just rather not rush it. I'm already going back to skool, and it's really weird. People won't leave me alone."

"Well don't wait too long or you might end up like my boss's friend. She dated some wacky freak that tried to kill her, and after that she locked herself up in her apartment for months. Then she really went off the deep end, too much time alone, she started imaging things ... insane things."

Dib rolled his eyes at the all-too-familiar phrase. "How do you know she was imagining them?"

"Uh, because they were insane? Her paintings started coming to life and crawling off the canvas. Even you can't twist that into some kind of sense."

"I disagree." He smirked. "In fact, I can already think of several possible- "

"Stop!" Letta threw up her hands as if she could literally toss away the topic. "I don't want to hear it, Dib, and Todd doesn't _need_ to hear it ... and you don't even need to be thinking it ... whatever it is."

"Fine then! Go ahead and just pretend that the Earth is flat and unchanging. One day you'll see." One day they would all see! And then they'd be sorry!

"So what happened to her?" Todd asked.

"My boss's friend? Oh, she got over it eventually. Tenna says she gets out a lot more now. She doesn't date much, but who could blame her? She still goes to therapy at times, and just recently she started running one of the group sessions at the D.H.M.I. If you hadn't been in the children's ward, you probably would have met her."

"Oh. Well, that's not so bad."

"Not now it isn't, but the important part is that she went through hell to get to where she is now. It started with a traumatic event, but spiraled out of control because she let the fear take over her life."

"No, I get that. But I'm not afraid anymore. I just don't like all the attention because of what happened at the skool."

When they finally made it to the Trendy Subject, Todd was pleased that Rob wasn't over visiting the manager, Anne Gwish, as he occasionally did in hopes of getting a date. What he usually ended up with instead was a job babysitting Anne's nieces, Hoara and Terra Bull, which he would, of course, carelessly thrust upon his own workers in addition to their paid duties. He shuddered at the thought of the high-stung twin girls and their relentless need to watch My Tiny Horses on all of the display TVs in the store.

Luckily, today they didn't seem to be accompanying Anne, whom he could make out through a window in the back room smoking, against mall regulations, and talking inanely on the company phone. Marvin, dark-skinned teenage boy with a closely cropped mohawk and a face full of piercings, restocked merchandise while a girl whose name tag read 'Thelema' looked up at them to pop a bubble with her chewing gum from where she leaned against one of the four display cases that surrounded the checkout counter that she was obviously in charge of.

The bored expression melted from Thelema's face like a cheep wax mask when her eyes landed on Zim and his ridiculous getup, and Todd hoped that would be enough to distract her from recognizing him despite his sunglasses and new hair cut.

"Hey, Dib! Dib, come here!" Thelema reversed her position, leaning forward instead of backward against the display case closest the group of new customers.

Groaning, Dib jerked himself away from Zim, taking as much pleasure as he could in the way that he stumbled in the high heels when his support was removed to make up for the fact that he was going to have to talk to the annoying pseudo goth before him. She was the type of person that Gaz would refer to as a 'lame ass poser'. "Yeah?"

"Who's that person there?" She pointed a wiggling finger with an inverted pentagram in white out on top of a black painted nail at the oddly dressed woman.

Dib took a deep breath, not sure if he wanted to waste the time it would take to impart the entirety of the answer to someone whom he was already sure wouldn't believe it. Over the years that kind of thing had become tiresome, especially when said person lacked the power, inclination and basic reasoning skills to do anything about it anyway. "That's Squee's mom. You know, the woman that got kidnapped by Miss Bitters, then lived as a hobo with amnesia until my father found her."

"Oh!" Her eyes widened further. "Why is she wearing that hideous pink tutu? I mean, those sparkles, those boots, they're bad enough ... and they totally don't match the hair, but if you're going to wear bright pink, you need to wear it on solid black!"

Dib just stared at her, somewhere in the back of his mind noticing that she was wearing a pink cage skirt over a very short black one. It was really a waste of material, and thus resources, since it didn't actually function as clothing at all. It didn't really match all of the many colors in her hair either, but that was no surprise. After working one store over from her for nearly a year now, he was well versed in her hypocrisy.

She huffed when she received no response, leaning to the side to see that the sparkly woman had set off to rummage through the pants on the right side of the store. Marvin had already moved from the back to help her, which meant that it wouldn't be long before she was hurried out of the store with her purchases. The Trendy Subject had an image to maintain after all! "Hey, Squee!"

Shit! He'd been spotted! Todd started from his position of leaning against the wall near the entrance, attempting to latch on to Letta's arm, but she only laughed and used the contact to push him closer to the counter. "Umm, hi, Thelema."

"Is your mother stuck in a time warp or what?"

Repressing an ever-present urge to state simply that Zim wasn't his mother, Todd looked over his shoulder to see that he was currently throwing item after item into Marvin's arms, and now Dib's as well, ranting about the stores severe lack of rubber pants. He sighed, knowing that he should have expected this kind of thing. At least Letta hadn't chimed in with something about transsexual aliens at the 'time warp' comment ... which actually would have been ridiculously appropriate in this instance. "Or what."

"What?"

"Yeah, I guess she is." With Zim it was more like a 'mind warp', but whatever.

"I'm glad that you found her and all, but that must be like _so_ embarrassing! And she makes you go out in public with her too ... and like that?" She looked him up and down, taking in blue jeans and a simple green tee-shirt, then giving him a sympathetic look. "Parents can be so oppressive, can't they? Always judging you because of the way that you dress, always trying to get you to be a carbon copy of them."

"Uh, yeah, I guess." He really didn't know, at least not from personal experience, since his own parents had only ever wanted to forget that he existed. "Except I usually dress like this outside of work." He smiled at her look of surprise, hoping that would be the end of the conversation or maybe even any future conversations that she might have otherwise initiated.

Thelema grabbed at the material of his shirt to pull him closer, lowering her voice so that none of the others could hear. "Is it because they'll send you back to the crazy house? It is, isn't it!"

"Not really." Annoyed, Todd sighed. He could tell by the awed, squeaky tone that her voice took on near the end that the idea excited her, which reinforced the feeling that he had gotten from her since they had met. She had only ever been motivated to stalk him during her breaks because being crazy placed him on the far edge of social 'conformity', making him a potentially appealing accessory for some one like herself to prove how nonconformist she was ... but only if he was willing to conform to goth social rules, which seemed to involve dressing in expensive, name-brand black and complaining a lot.

"Come on, you can tell me." She tried to make her smile look genuine because the flirtatious one that she had been throwing at him for weeks didn't seem to be working to her advantage. "I know what it's like to face down the establishment. Just last week someone pulled the Baphomet stickers off my bumper, right? And I knew it was that fat, fundy bitch that runs the Christian store down the hall because my eight ball confirmed it, so I put a curse on her."

"O-kay."

"I'm the Grand High Exalted Priestess of the The First Evil Church of Satanic Divinity, so I got on line with all the other members-we don't have a physical church yet-and we cursed her car." When he didn't look very impressed, she added, "It was a _really_ evil curse. And now the paint is starting to chip, and that shows just how powerful we've become!"

"Yeah. Powerful." Todd nodded along, all the while wishing that he could make up an excuse to make her stop talking, that Letta would let him get away with waiting in the book store across the hall where he usually spent his own work breaks. It was bad enough that he had to listen, or pretend to listen, to her go on about whatever new 'dark' fade she was currently a master of when he was at work, but now-now not only was he not getting paid, but he knew that Pepito was hearing all of this because her voice had been rising steadily.

"So if you give me the names of the people oppressing you and making you wear those conformist clothes, I can take care of them for you." She winked at him.

"Uh, no. That's-"

Pepito tossed a couple of shirts onto the counter, purposefully interrupting the conversation with a sarcastic smile. "Oh, really? Could you make them add too much bleach to the wash so the colors of their 'conformist' clothes run together?"

After giving him a quick once over, Thelema instantly knew that the darker boy was one of those wannabes that shopped at the Trendy Subject only to mix its merchandise with conformist clothes from other styles to the obscene point where you couldn't even tell what clique he belonged to! It was like he wanted to belong to them _all_, which basically just made him a sell-out to them all. She gave him a snooty look. "I bet your colors run anyway."

"What the hell does that even mean?"

"It means that you probably don't know how to separate them for the wash; you can't even do it for your wardrobe. Just look at you. It's like you're trying to be goth, but you don't wanna be kicked outta the Country Club."

"Goth? I don't want be goth. Besides, goth is just about aesthetic tastes, fashion. There's no underlying philosophy that I'm betraying by mixing things together." Actually, his own tastes, which she had sadly mislabeled, ran much more strongly toward punk, which did have underlying philosophical trends ... but that wasn't the point. "And weren't you just talking about being oppressed for the way you dress?"

"Uh, yeah. By normal pretenders like you who clearly don't get how deep it goes." She slid the shirts over the checkout sensor and dropped them into a bag so that the price would show on the digital readout. "Why are you here with Squee anyway? Don't you sit at one of the popular tables at lunch?"

Pepito gripped his debit card harder than he meant to as he slid it through the machine to pay for his items. It wasn't even funny how much he hated idiots like this. It was even worse when they belonged to alternative or minority subcultures and did the same things that they complained about to others. "Squee and I have been friends since elementary skool, so I'm going to go out on a limb here are guess that I know him fairly better than you." She probably didn't even know his real name, not that he was about to tell her.

"You go ahead and think that, but you're still just a mundane." She handed over the receipt as soon as it was printed, waving her hand at him in a 'get lost' motion before turning back to Squee. "So, Squee, like I was saying, my coven meets at this night club called The Underground, and if you wanted to go with me sometime, like this weekend, we could talk about putting a curse on anyone that bothers you." She looked directly at Squee's 'friend', lowering her voice once more. "We could probably make his lunch table legs uneven!"

Todd raised an eyebrow at the purported 'evil curse', nearly laughing when he looked back at Pepito's expression. He was almost tempted to agree to meeting her there just to get a further rise out of him. "Sorry, Thelema, I'm going to be really busy. I have a whole lot of skool work to catch up on from all those absent days."

Her smile faltered for a second. "Oh. But I can take care of that too! My magic has gotten a lot stronger ever since I learned the ultimate secret knowledge behind all ancient occult mysteries from the Necromonicon and the Nine Gates of the Kingdom of Shadows. I can use it to get rid of all your homework, or even let you see it yourself ... for a small, nonrefundable fee, of course."

Todd felt his left eye twitch. "No, thanks." He'd already read those books anyway, or rather the fictional stories to which they belonged, but had experienced no reprieve in homework since then. He felt relieved when Pepito's hand wrapped around his upper arm to pull him away.

"Come on, Amigo, let's wait outside, shall we?"

Thelema launched into action, grabbing Squee's other arm herself, and shooting the other boy a scowl. "Wait, Squeee," she whined. Digging into to large black bag with her free hand, she pushed aside a Sunset novel and an unread, but much brandished Satanic Bible to pull out a small note pad with a skull and a pink bow on the front. "Let me just write down some contact info."

"Alright." Todd agreed easily because he knew this type of placation was a quick escape. He didn't mention that she had already given him her information twice before, with no results.

"Okay. That first one is my email and the other is the The First Evil Church of Satanic Divinity's egroup."

"Okay. See ya around." He let Pepito drag him out of the store, even though Letta was staring them down from the position she and Leon maintained at the doorway. She seemed to get over it when they only went as far as the bench in the middle of the hall.

Pepito fell onto the bench dramatically with an emphasized huff, letting his bag slump on the floor beside it.

"Not happy?" Todd sent him an amused smile as he took the seat beside him.

"No, I feel very slightly ill. It must be one of her all-powerful curses."

He laughed. "Maybe. She didn't seem to like you very much, did she? When you think about it, it's kind of ironic.

"It's not ironic, Todd, because she is _not_ a Satanist."

"Ummm ... she seems to think so."

"Well, she thinks wrong ... so very, very wrong."

"So what, you get to decide who is and isn't a Satanist according to your own criteria?"

"Of course I do. And in any case, that was just a lot of empty posturing."

Todd bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing again as he looked at the skull-print note paper in what he hoped appeared to be a thoughtful manner. "So you think that I shouldn't join this egroup?" The look he received was flat and perfect.

"Amigo, may I see that?"

"Why, Pepi?" His voice suddenly grew more serious. "You're not going to kill her or anything, right? Because I was just having a laugh and ... and you looked so funny."

"No, she's too stupid to waste good energy on." He quickly made a grab for the paper, taking out his cell phone to get on line when Todd gave no opposition. He held the cell out so Todd could also look at the screen. "Oh, look, you have to be approved to post on their board. And they have a link where they sell black market Church supplies that they steal in the name of Satan. And they will ritually desecrate the item for you for only six dollars and sixty-six cents more."

"Oh, that's a good deal, right?" Todd laughed again when Pepito punched him in the arm. "Sorry, sorry. Should this, heh, not be funny to me?" He cleared his throat. "Because if it's offensive, I-"

"Todd, it's-oh, isn't that the girl that works with you?" He nodded toward an auburn-haired girl with light brown skin that seemed to be headed in their direction at a very fast speed that made her chest bounce. When she arrived to stand in front of them with a newspaper only a few seconds later, he assumed that he had been correct.

"Squee!" Vayoween only managed his name before she was out of breath from the run over. It wouldn't have been so bad if she had spotted him from Rob's instead of the Wizardry Store down the hall where she had been in the process of reading a small monthly paper, which she now held out in front of his face to make up for her lack of words. "Look ... at ... this."

"The Paranormal Digest?" Pushing his sunglasses up into his hair, Todd took it from her hands to read the story on the front page. The large print at the very top, which immediately caught his attention, read, 'More To Skool Burning Than Meets The Eye'. Just below that was a subtitle of the article: 'Skool Burns As Overzealous Book Club Bleeds It Out To Stave Off Coming Invasion!' "Holy shit." He scanned the rest of the article, all the while feeling the muscles in his stomach wind themselves into a tense, angry knot.

Pepito read what he could of the article over Todd's shoulder, this time laughing himself. "Come on, Todd, papers like this always publish outrageous lies and exaggerations. Everyone knows that."

Looking up at Dib as he made his way over from the Trendy Subject, Todd narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, everyone except Dib."

"What except Dib?" Dib smiled extra big, using the most agreeable voice that he had when under stress, the one that he usually saved for when he had done something to incur Gaz's wrath.

Todd held up the newspaper, waving it in the air like a flag for emphasis before bringing it back down to look at a certain section. "Listen to this. 'According to long time informant, _Agent Mothman_, and another anonymous witness, the fire that demolished the building was much too hot to have its origins in anything Earth-based. Authorities, as always, are keeping what little they know under tight wraps, but our sources have suggested that the fire, perhaps better described as an explosion, was an attempt by an aggressive alien species to stop a ritual of blood sacrifice via a large number of paper cuts being offered up by an underground book-love group that had learned from their Astral Masters of the extraterritorials' diabolical plan to enslave mankind!'" His voice rose progressively toward the end with the ridiculous nature of the claims, and then all he could do was glare at Dib for a long moment.

"Ohhh, that. Yes, well ... you see ..." Dib gave up. "I'm sorry, Squee. I didn't know they were going to add so much. I don't even know where that book-love stuff came from!"

"I have a pretty good idea." Todd glanced over at the Trendy Subject, where Letta was currently trying to help Zim check out. She waved to him, and he didn't return it. He thought about sending her a different signal.

"You have to understand, though!" Dib picked back up, "I _had_ to tell the world what's happened. It's a matter of global security! And it's probably not over!"

"Yeah, Dib, only no one believes you, and now there's a really stupid story with my photo on the front cover! As if I don't already get enough ludicrous questions about what happened!"

"Take it easy there, Amigo. It was pretty stupid, but at least no one really reads it, right?

"Even if they don't, _now_ we really can't prove it if we need to because there's always going to be this-this trash! A simple background search is going to pull up that story, and no one will take us seriously. It's basic psychology. If you've got something to hide, make sure the public gets something related, but bigger and so completely outlandish that no sane person would believe it. Then whenever anyone brings up the real issue, people won't listen because it's already buried in crazy!"

"But, Squee, what I told them was the real story! And that would have happened anyway! It _always_ happens with the paranormal because of religious nuts and hack investigators like Bill!"

"Whatever, Dib!" Todd stood up, shoving the paper into Dib's arms. "You still should have asked me."

"Oh, come on! You weren't talking to _anyone_!" Dib called after Squee's retreating form, folding the paper under his arms that were now covering his chest in an indignant stance. He looked back and forth helplessly between Vayoween and Pepito.

"Sorry, Dib." Vayoween patted his shoulder, still cringing a little from the unexpected argument. "I've got to get back to work."

Pepito angled a thumb over his shoulder. "I should probably go after him. Then we'll get some lunch, and by then he should be calmed down." He stood to leave before Dib could reply.

Todd continued to walk, only speeding up when he heard Dib and then Pepito calling after him. His hands fisted and released to get rid of the tension, but what he really needed was to walk. A couple of treks around that floor of the mall usually did the trick whenever a customer stressed him out too much. Almost expertly, he darted in and out of the crowds like a speeding motorcycle through a traffic jam, weaving his way purposefully to nowhere.

Suddenly, the collar of his shirt tightened around his neck, cutting off a good portion of his circulation as well as his ability to breath. A hand pressed against his mouth, muffling any protest that he might make as he was tugged backwards by the collar. He heard his captor's back hit a door that swung open, and the next thing he knew, he was slammed into the outside of a row of bathroom stalls.

Gaz's hands came to land roughly on either side of his head, her arms blocking his escape, and he let out a relieved lung full of air, all of the previous anger having dissipated at the surprise attack. At least the danger, and there did appear to be danger if the glare on her face was any indication, came from a known source. "Gaz? This-this is the girls bathroom!"

"Shut up, Squee."

He flinched at her tone, but replied automatically. "Okay."

"You told me that Johnny C. is a homicidal maniac."

"Umm ... yeah I did?" This couldn't be going anywhere good.

"I believed you."

He felt a shameful, but persistent small ray of happiness shining through a newly formed storm cloud of apprehension at her statement. "You do? Really?"

"_Did_, Squee. I did believe you. And now I have to come up with another appropriately horrifying plan to get rid of Chunk, which means that I have to _date_ him longer. Which means that you had damn well better be insane because if you lied to me, Squee, it _will_ be the last time. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

The small ray of happiness went out, and he could almost swear that he heard thunder, though that was probably just another of the elevators across from the bathroom groaning its plan to break down. "That you really are a psychopath?"

"_What_?" Grabbing the collar of his shirt again, Gaz jerked him forward before shoving him back into the stalls.

Okay, so she was looking for something more specific. "That you found out where Nny lives, and tried to get him to kill Chunk?" Todd suddenly felt highly confused. "And he didn't do it? Really?"

"That's it." She loosened her grip some, a little less enraged now that he appeared to be just as shocked as herself that Chunk still breathed.

"But that's horrible ... and so unlikely."

"I know! I wasted all morning with that asshole, and then nothing! And he called me his _bitch_! And he's probably going to dump _me_ soon!"

"He really is an asshole."

"Well, yeah. But he _will_ pay." She narrowed her eyes on Squee again. "And so will you if you ever lie to me again."

He nodded without thinking. It was probably best to let her think he had lied. After all, he knew that Johnny didn't take too kindly to those who reminded him of himself. "Gaz? Have you ever thought about therapy?"

"Yeah." She grunted a ruff laugh. "I've thought about how stupid and pointless it is."

"Oh."

"Why, are the shrinks telling you wackos to recruit now?"

"Noo. It just seems like you have a lot of pent up aggression that you could stand to talk about." Wow. He really did sound like Brian right now.

Gaz rolled her hazel eyes. "That's what video games are for." She smirked. "And if that's not enough I can always beat up my stupid bother."

The door swung open, and an obese woman with three screaming little boys barged in. "Alright, alright, alright. We'll stop by the McMeaty's on the way home for pork shakes if you little brats will shut up!" She finally looked away from the sticky-looking children to notice the two teenagers. "What! What are you doing in here!" She pointed a thick finger at the Todd.

Gaz barely even looked back at her. "Oh, just mind your own business."

"No boys allowed!"

"Uh ..." Todd faltered.

"You're no help." Gaz rolled her eyes once again. "They're boys too." She nodded at the whiny little brats.

"Yeah, but I have to help them go wee wee!"

"Well, maybe I have to help him go 'wee wee' too! Ever stopped to think of that?"

"What! Eww. That's not-"

"Shut up, Todd. Like the doctor said, it's not something to be embarrassed of. Now, I've got the catheter in my purse, so if you'll just unzip your pants ..."

The woman scratched her head. "Oh. I ... I'll just wait until you're done then." She turned around, finding her way out of the bathroom much faster than she had managed to get in.

There was a long moment of silence, during which Todd wished that he wasn't too afraid to cuss her out. "Right. So, I won't lie to you anymore. Can I, uh, go now, please? I have this thing about public bathrooms."

"Whatever." She let him go with a smirk, feeling the sweet, sweet satisfaction that always came with revenge. He would watch his step now, so there would be no more lies, even accidental ones.

Todd ran straight into the swinging door, bursting forth from it, and not caring that he was drawing the attention of the large woman and many other mall-goers that might possibly report him to Stab Rankle, head of mall security. He plunged back into the masses of people, feeling a burning heat in his face and a deep seated fear in his gut for whatever Gaz might carry around in that purse of hers. He finally got far enough away from her to feel a little more secure in his ... well, his package ... that he allowed himself to stop in a low traffic area to lean over the side of the fourth floor railing. His hands covered his face for a moment. "Oh, God. She really is crazy, like some crazy thing!"

"Todd!" Pepito let out a deep breath when the person that he had been calling to turned around, revealing themselves to actually be Todd this time. "There you are! Where were you?"

"Uh, bathroom?" Todd shrugged. "Sorry."

"I looked in the bathroom. I looked all around this section. I don't even know how you disappeared."

"Yeah, it was the, uh, other bathroom."

Pepito turned around in a circle, taking in the mall-scape. "What other bathroom?"

Gripping his arm to stop the spin, Todd stepped closer to speak in a low tone. "The girls' bathroom."

"Oh. Is there ... more to that or is it something private?"

"Not really. I just ran into Gaz ... or she ran into me, pretty hard actually. Turns out she's insane."

"Well, she is Dib's sister." Pepito smirked as he wrapped an around him, this time not planning to let go until they had safely arrived at their lunching destination.

Though he raised an arm to grip the side of the light jacket that Pepito was wearing, Todd wasn't sure whether he wanted to hold on or push him away. The lingering fear of Gaz's purse won out, but he still needed to say something. "Pep, that's mean. You know he's not that crazy. I mean, it's not like he kills people or anything."

As they rode down the escalators that would take them to the food court, Pepito felt something in his gut twist tightly at Todd's words. "You know him better than I do, Amigo. Besides, it's just like a skool joke. You know? Just habit."

"It's a really bad habit."

"Sorry. Really." Pepito tightened his hold to give Todd a quick squeeze before letting go as they reached an entire wing that was dedicated to restaurants. "So, where do you wanna eat? I've got my debit card, and my parents usually keep a fair amount on it, so we can go wherever you want."

Midway through an indecisive walk around the main circle where the better establishments usually set up shop, they decided on an Italian place that Pepito claimed to be familiar with. The entire process of being seated felt incredibly awkward to Todd. He couldn't help but feel like this place was a little too nice for two causal friends to be eating there together. He also really didn't like the idea of Pepito paying, but it couldn't really be helped at this point.

"And what can we get you to drink this afternoon?"

"Umm ..." He shuffled through the menu, finding that the drinks section took up two whole pages.

"We'll both have the Super Tuscan wine, thanks." When Todd gave him a wide-eyed look, Pepito only shot an equally wide smile back at him.

After the waiter nodded-and Todd thought he saw a wink too- and left to fill their order, Todd leaned over the booth's table to shout as best he could in a near whisper. "Why did you do that!"

"Because it's good wine, and I think you'll like it?"

"No! I don't drink! And we're both underage! What if we get carded?"

"We won't. The waiter is a friend of mine."

"What-never mind." Todd shook his head, looking down at the table clothe and deciding that he really didn't want to know exactly what kind of 'friend' he was.

The waiter returned shortly, pouring them both a full-bodied red drink. "Will this be on the same check, Sir?"

"Yes, it will."

"As you wish. Are you ready to order?"

After Pepito had ordered something that Todd couldn't pronounce and Todd had went with a simple and safe sampler plate, the waiter left with another wink that was directed at them both, and Todd really wished that he hadn't seen it. And he had called Pepito 'Sir'? No, he still didn't want to know. Instead of asking he stared at the nearly full wine glass in front of him. "I still don't drink."

"Do you want something else?"

"Is this water from the tap?" He pointed at the extra glasses of water that the waiter had supplied them with.

"Yes, but it's very thoroughly filtered."

Todd raised the regular glass to his lips, taking a small, experimental taste. "It'll be okay."

Pepito frowned. "You sure?"

"Yeah. It tastes ... relatively safe."

"I'm sure it is, although the wine is better."

"Heh. Sure."

"Come on, Todd. I apologize for ordering for you, but you've been really tense all day. Don't you think it might help you relax some?" When Todd only gave him a look, he continued, switching strategies from persuasive to downplaying the whole thing. "Wine doesn't even contain much alcohol, you know."

"Ugh. Fine." Todd made a big show of pushing his water away before pulling the wine forward to take a small drink. It wasn't nearly as bad as some of the medications he had tested for the D.H.M.I. He took another drink. "It's not _too_ bad."

"See, I told you." Pepito sampled his own drink, taking a moment to soak his palate in the bitter sweet taste of pride that would have been better if watching Todd turn his drink back in seconds didn't make him nearly choke on his own. He coughed to clear his windpipe. "Whoa!" He put down his own wine to grab the hand hold of Todd's drink too late. "Slow down, Amigo! Jeez, you drink like a gringo."

Todd giggled to himself as he let Pepito force the newly-emptied glass back onto the table. "'Gringo'? Really? Heh. Well, I am one, right?"

"I mean way too fast, like the purpose is too avoid tasting the alcohol. Let me give you a few pointers. You need to drink slowly to really appreciate it. Only people with no taste or no balls drink wine or beer to get drunk, just like only those too afraid to embrace their sins fail to balance them properly. If you actually wanted to get drunk, you'd need something that was fermented after it was distilled."

"Yeah, thanks. I'll try to remember that the next time someone pressures me into drinking." Todd snorted at his own comment that didn't quite reach the level of sarcasm that he had intended. "I feel really warm. Is that normal?"

"It is when you drink too fast." Pepito pushed Todd's cup of water, as well as the plate of bread in the middle, back toward him. "Have some more water, and you'll be fine."

After downing half of his water, Todd broke off a piece of bread, opting not to dip it in the complementary olive oil. It was pretty good plain until a piece of it scraped against the back of his throat when he swallowed too hard at the sound of two girls around their age calling out to Pepito from across the restaurant.

Of course, Pepito just had to smile and wave back, and soon the two of them-twins apparently-had left their parents behind to to pay him a social visit. This wouldn't have been a problem for Todd if it hadn't been for the horrible media attention he'd been getting lately. He pulled his sunglasses back down over his eyes in hopes that they might not notice him if he was very still and said nothing.

"Hi, Pepi!" One of the brunette girls slipped into the seat on Pepito's side as the other mimicked her in both word and motions, though she took a seat beside Todd. She pouted overly glossed lips. "I thought you were going to be busy this weekend with ... uh ... what's his name?"

"Todd?" The second girl suggested.

"I am. Todd, this is Missy and Crissy." Pepito chuckled, then continued in a smooth voice. "You didn't think I'd lied to you, now did you?"

"Oh! This is him?" Missy reached out to take the glasses off of Todd's face without prompting. "It is you! And hey, you cut your hair!"

"Uh, yeah."

At his confused look, her equally awed sister spoke up. "We saw you on TV ... and in the papers ... and on the skool bulletin board for about a week after the accident."

"Oh. Of-of course." Todd forced a small smile, though this had been the very thing he was dreading.

Missy twirled the shades around with two fingers as she looked around, finally looking back to Chrissy in a sudden, gossip worthy realization. "So, is this like a date? I hope we're not interrupting!"

"No! It's not a date." Abruptly wishing that his wine glass was still full, Todd sat up straighter to look across at Pepito before finishing in an uncertain tone, "It's not, is it?"

"No. It's not." Pepito forced back a frown as he said the words out loud more to assure Todd than anything else. It was true, of course, and there was nothing sad about that. What was sad was that Todd was obviously feeling so insecure about it.

"Aww. Why not?"

"Uh, no reason. It's just not," Todd offered feebly. In truth, he was confused by the question, by the underlying assumption that seemed to be that two people should be dating in the absence of a good reason not to. Unless maybe Pepito had told them something that he didn't know about ....

Chrissy shrugged, then waved in an annoyed fashion at her moms, who were currently trying to coax them both back to their table with hand gestures to avoid making a scene. "Fair enough. We've got to be getting back to our table, I guess, but our parents are leaving town next weekend if you guys wanna come over." She flashed them both a quick smile before getting to her feet and pulling the Missy up by the arm. "Just let us know!"

As both girls walked away, the waiter came back with their meals, and Todd deemed his own to be pretty good, especially after the kinds of food that he was used to.

"So," Pepito paused to gather some pasta with his fork, "do you want to go?"

"To their house? I don't know, Pep. I don't really know them, and you know how people are around me now."

"I know, Amigo, but you could stand to get out and meet new people. Those two are pretty ... nice."

"I don't like the way you said 'nice'. And what would we be doing that their parents would need to be gone for?"

"Heh. Yeah. Do you really need me to explain that?"

"I think I got the basic gist of it."

"And you don't want to?"

"I just said I don't know them. I've never even been on a date or anything before; I'm not just going to ... to do whatever we would be doing there with some random person."

"_Persons_. And I'm not random, am I?"

"Noo." Todd rolled his eyes at the fake hurt in Pepito's voice. "But I don't even know which one of them I'd be on a date with!"

Pepito smiled mischievously. "Who said you'd be on a date with one of them?"

"Well, since they invited us both, I just assumed it was a double date type thing, albeit one that was initiated solely for the purpose of exploiting my current 'popularity' as the poor, insane kid."

"You know, you could probably turn that into real, lasting popularity pretty easily if you stop sitting with Dib at lunch."

"What? To sit at your soon-to-be wobbly table? I'll pass."

"Ha. If my table starts to wobble, Thelema is going to wake up with platinum blond hair." He paused to chew a few thoughtful bites. "Well, at least he looks less crazy now that Zim hasn't been at skool with him as of late."

Todd looked down at his food for a moment, not wanting to agree on principle, even though he'd been thinking the same thing all week. He took a bite of his lasagna instead.

"But anyway," Pepito picked back up, "it could be a double date with Chrissy and Missy dating each other."

"What? Why would ... Pepito, you're not going to convince me that they're not sisters. They look _just_ alike, and it's not because I think all Asian girls look the same, so don't even joke about that."

Pepito laughed. "No, they're twins, but they could still get together every now and then."

Eyes widening, Todd dropped his fork onto his plate with a small clang to stare straight at Pepito. "No. No they couldn't."

"Sure they could! Everyone knows that twins share a special bond, and being with your twin would be just like being with-"

"No. It wouldn't, Pepito. And I'm pretty sure that's not what they meant. You just want to think that because you're a freak."

"Come now, Amigo, you're always such a pessimist."

"Because I don't try to project weird incestuous lesbian fantasies onto unwitting girls?"

His smile grew. "Yes. But they wouldn't necessarily have to be lesbians."

"That's so wrong."

"You have a problem with girls liking girls?"

"Yes, Pepito. Even though I partially grew up with a lesbian, and girl porn is the only kind that I've ever seen. Yes, I have a major problem with it." Actually, he only had a problem with the kind that was obviously made by and for straight men with blatantly uninterested, and most likely straight, actresses that were composed of more silicon than carbon. That kind made him feel sort of sick inside, but Letta didn't have very much of that.

Pepito laughed again. "Sorry, Todd. I was just ... I had to get you back for that stuff with that horrible girl at the Trendy Subject, but you don't have to be so sarcastic about it."

"Well, it was a stupid, sarcastic question to begin with." He faked an angry huff. "And at least what I said back there was a joke."

"Yes, I'm aware that you now think I'm a sick freak, but you should know that's a pretty standard fantasy for a guy our age ... or any age really."

Todd's mouth formed something between a smirk and a frown. 'Standard' people were disturbing. "Just one more reason not to sit at your lunch table." He kicked Pepito's foot under the table to let him know that he was mostly kidding.

"So, you really don't want to go, right?"

"Right."

"Alright."

"Really? You're not going to try to talk me into it after all that?"

"No. I do think you need to meet more people, but I really just thought that you might be more comfortable going on a date with a girl since you said that you've only ever liked them that way before. No pressure, though." Pepito's voice grew more serious. "Actually, Todd, I think I've been pushing you too much about a lot of things that you're obviously not ready for. I've been trying not to, but I seem to be a bit of an idiot when it comes to you." He smiled. "I think it's because you're always nearly dying on me, but I promise I'll try harder to stop."

"O-okay, Pep. I ... thanks." Todd took a deep breath, feeling immensely relieved, but also just a little disappointed.

"I know I can come on pretty strong some times, like with the wine, or when I think that it's something that you want but you're too afraid. Like I said, I'll try to watch it, but you just have to tell me no, alright? Sometimes really strongly. I won't be offended."

"Okay." Todd looked down again and took another bite of his food, playing with his leftovers with the fork afterward like a little kid. He felt like one too, and like Pepito and nearly everyone else he knew thought so as well. In a way, it made him angry because it was so unfair, but maybe it was also partly true. Maybe it was just culture shock, but a lot of the things that he heard and saw the other kids doing at skool, as well as a lot of the things that Pepito and Letta alluded to doing, felt more alien to him than the way Zim had looked in his original body.

"Amigo? Ready for the check?"

"Oh. Yeah."

* * *

END CHAPTER!

Notes:

-Monsexism-"a belief that monosexuality (either exclusive heterosexuality and/or being lesbian or gay) is superior to a bisexual or pansexual orientation." From a visibility project pamphlet: http : //74.125 . 47 . 132/search?q=cache : . org/educational_presentations_and_workshops/bi-ally-handout-ucdavis/download+Bi+ally+final+pamphlet&cd=1&hl=en&ct=clnk&gl=us&client=firefox-a

-The thing with the nurse is based on something that really happened to me recently, though exaggerated.

-Sunset series = Twilight (which I haven't read, btw, though I have seen the movie).

-A lot of his part was inspired by an episode of the British comedy, The Mighty Boosh, called the Legend of Old Greg (Some Mighty Boosh stuff is pasted down through a couple centuries and popular in comedy and theater in the SA universe). Zim is dressed as him and I imagine the nurse talking a bit like him too. It's hilarious! Check it out: www . Veoh . com/browse/videos/category/entertainment/watch/v4095998FxwxJE6A

-"Morning glory" is slang for the morning erections that men tend to get.

-Thelema: is a philosophy or religion[1] based on the dictum, "Do what thou Wilt" as presented in Aleister Crowley's Book of the Law. The character Thelema (who named herself after the religion) is a parody OC based on "101 rules of Satanism", which is Satanic religious satire. Thanks go out to DesdemonaKakalose from DA for helping me design her! I didn't really get to do all I wanted to with her in that short time period, but she may make a second appearance in ch 20, so further help from anyone else is welcome. The journal for helping out with Thelema's design and/or reading the "101 rules of Satanism" can be found here: http : // kailean . Deviantart . com/journal/22895418/

-Those fictional books:

*"The Necronomicon is a fictional book appearing in the stories by horror novelist H. P. Lovecraft. It was first mentioned in Lovecraft's 1924 short story "The Hound",[1] written in 1922, though its purported author, the "Mad Arab" Abdul Alhazred, had been quoted a year earlier in Lovecraft's "The Nameless City".[2] Among other things, the work contains an account of the Old Ones, their history, and the means for summoning them.  
"Other authors such as August Derleth and Clark Ashton Smith also cited it in their works; Lovecraft approved, believing such common allusions built up "a background of evil verisimilitude." Many readers have believed it to be a real work, with booksellers and librarians receiving many requests for it; pranksters have listed it in rare book catalogues, and a student smuggled a card for it into the Yale University Library's card catalog."

*"The Ninth Gate is a 1999 film based on the novel The Club Dumas by Arturo Pérez-Reverte. Spanning several genres, The Ninth Gate is a mix of mystery, horror thriller, and neo-noir, and additionally portrays facets of the rare book business. The film was co-written and directed by Roman Polanski, and stars Johnny Depp as Dean Corso, a rare-book dealer hired by a book collector (Frank Langella) to validate a copy of The Nine Gates of the Kingdom of Shadows, a book by 17th century author Aristide Torchia.

"The Nine Gates of the Kingdom of Shadows, a book by 17th century author Aristide Torchia, one of only three surviving copies, now in Balkan's possession. The book contains nine engravings which, when correctly deciphered and the interpretations properly spoken, are alleged to raise the Devil."

-Both from wikipedia


	19. Chapter 19

**Sublime Awakenings Chapter Nineteen: I'm Your Moon**

**

* * *

**Warnings: Ridiculous amounts of freaking out, ridiculous amounts of period references, a little too much crack, even for this story, minor nudity, minor sexual references, a scene that has become very cliche by now, part a scene that might be disturbing ... I guess you could maybe call in very minor character death ... maybe. Lots and lots of ZIM.

* * *

Todd's fingers moved over the leather of the book, his skin finding indentions that had been left by a purposeful burning. He was sitting in a meadow full of wildflowers. Blues, yellows and brilliant purples in vibrant, healthy grass should have vied for attention with the book, but instead they seemed to reflect its meaning.

The winds blew, creating waves in the vegetation and urging him to open the cover. When he did, he saw that there were shadow-like traces of symbols on hand-made plump paper that he couldn't quite make out, though there was a sense of great importance attached to each one, like notes in a song that only Nature could sing. For human people, it had been forgotten, though it was still there, waiting for ... for something. It was a background noise that the mind concentrated on specifically to tune it out, all the while growing and changing with that song without really knowing, like the rhythm of breathing.

His eyes stayed focused on the book in his lap, but he could feel himself slowly becoming more and more aware of his surroundings with his other senses. Hearing and feeling predominated until he thought that he could almost make it out. The song; it was the wind that moved the grass that brushed against his skin, and the movement of the Earth that caused such friction. It was the sun that melted the snow that flowed into the rivers that ran to the ocean and the waves and the moon. It was the rain that was carried all over the world to repeat the cycle.

It was the push and pull of the ocean, but on another wave length, and it seemed to be circular. No, not quite circular. It was spiral: a continuous, never ending strange loop that seem to circle down, but somehow ended up exactly where it had began. It was the nothing that was everything, and the life that became death and then life again. The push and pull was being creator and created again and again in turn, and then the rhythm was screaming at him, breaking up.

"Squeak!"

He tried hard to hang on to the meaning and the peace, but it wasn't very peaceful anymore. Now it was angry, and demanding, and afraid and ... Zim. Anything but Zim!

"Squeak! Squeaky-child, wake up!"

"Ugh." Todd rolled over onto his stomach, pulling the pillow over the back of his head to block out the ever-grating sound of Zim's ascent filtered through his mother's voice. He closed his eyes tightly and thought that he could have gone back to sleep if the aforementioned pillow hadn't been ripped from his grasp and lifted into the air only to come back down to smack him in the back of the head. He suffered one annoyingly feathery blow after another, each time harder than the last, until he turned back over to face the source, highly irritated. "Leave me alone, Zim! It's ..." he looked to the alarm clock on the nightstand, "it's only seven in the morning, and it's Saturday! That means there's no skool, no Church and I'm off work so I can actually sleep. This is the only day that happens."

"Make silence now, Squeaky-worm!" Zim clutched the pillow that he still held to the weak human body that he was now even more desperate to be free of. Wide blue eyes moved around the bedroom in a worried fashion that he was trying his best to hide behind his usually commanding air. "There is a problem with this _pathetic_ huyman body, and you will help me fix it _now_ if you ever wish to converse with your female parental unit ever again!"

This time it was the covers that hid Todd's face, with the upper portion of his arm lying on top of the left side of his head for good measure. He knew that Zim would just keep complaining, but he also fully expected Zim's 'oh-so-important' problem to involve a 'mighty need' for waffles, as per usual. He was going to have to complain to the DHMI about Brian working on Saturdays. "What's your problem now, Zim?"

"My _problem_, retched stink-beast, is that this body is hemorrhaging internally! _Hemorrhaging_! And I did _nothing_ to provoke it! It started while I was in that wasteful process that you lesser beings call sleep!"

Sighing deeply, Todd threw the rainbow comforter from his upper body, blinking his eyes a few times to adjust to the light that Zim had obviously turned on before commencing with the screaming. He forced himself into a sitting position. "Zim, people don't just start hemorrhaging for no reason. If you didn't do anything stupid, it's probably fine." He raised a brow. "How do you even know you're hemorrhaging if it's supposedly internal anyway? If your stomach hurts, then you probably just ate something that Letta cooked and left in the fridge ... you should never do that. It doesn't end well for anyone."

"Oh, you humans are truly a miserable, inferior race of lowly, fragile bodies! Who knows what otherwise harmless action caused it! But it's happening! And I _command_ you to do something!"

"O-kay," Todd tried his best to speak calmly in hopes that the emotion would rub, "but, like I said, how do you even know? Because sometimes humans just-"

"No! This is no common Earth-pain! Behold the hemorrhaging for yourself!" Zim dropped the pillow to the floor so his borrowed-hands would be free to pull his new housecoat open to show the Squeak the horrible _leaking_ that the mighty Zim had awakened to.

Todd clutched the covers that were now at his waist again, but forced himself not to pull them back over his head. Instead, he simply stared down at them, and away from the blood-stained night dress that adorned his mother's body, shocked. "Zim, I … I think I hate you. And I would really appreciate it if you would leave me alone for a while so that I can fully repress this memory."

"What! You do not hate the amazing Zim! The amazing Zim hates you, puny dirt-child! Or I _would_ hate you if you were important enough to hate! But you're not, so there!" Zim pulled the robe back together indignantly. "How _dare_ you show Zim such disrespect! This is a medical emergency, not some ... some Earthenoid propriety issue! Now! Are you going to help me or shall I be forced to dial this nine-eleven that the TV is always going on about?"

With a deep breath, Todd shook his head. "You don't need medical help. You're just on your period." He paused to massage his temple with one hand when he only received a blank look. "Do you even know what that is?"

"A 'period'? A punctuation mark? A generic span of time? Neither of those make any sense! You speak craziness! And I, oh Tallest, I'm going to die on this filthy planet, in this filthy body, with nothing but you filthy humans to inherit the amazingness in my pak that was once Zim!" He stopped mid-dramatic posture. "Wait! The new body! Call the Dib! He will take me to it _now_!"

"Calm down already, Zim! You're not dying. You're just … the body is doing something that all female humans of a reproductive age have to do once a month. Didn't Dib say you guys were taking sex ed in home economics? They really should have told you something about this."

"I only had one day! One pitiful Earth day! And Ms … Ms Whatever her name is this week said nothing about monthly hemorrhaging!"

"Okay. One more time. That's all. You're not hemorrhaging. This is normal. Horrible, but normal. Got it?"

"But I'm-"

"No! It's normal!"

"But-"

"Normal!" Dear God, Zim was retarded! And Todd hated yelling a people, especially this early in the morning. He was probably going to have a headache now to top off the freakish mother's period trauma.

"Fine! Let's say that this life-juice leaking is 'normal'. What exactly is Zim supposed to _do_ about it, huh?"

"This isn't some subjective argument that I'm trying to win. And you're supposed to ... to get some pads or something. And then take some period relieving medication, I guess."

"These ... medications ... they will make the leaking go away, yes?"

"No. They'll just make the pain stop, I think."

"Then they are _useless_, like everything on this planet! _Why_ would this need to happen! This is as bad as the fleshy fat lumps! Worse even! I hate this planet, I hate it, I hate it!"

"Umm. Yeah. Sometimes emotions can get a little weird with periods too … usually not this weird, but I guess if you're deranged to begin with .... Just, uh," Todd crawled to the end of the bed before getting to his feet, "just let me go find you some of that medicine. There should be some in the bathroom."

"Don't leave me!" Suddenly, Zim leaped forward, latching onto the Squeaky kid's arm as if the Dib where just around the corner with a water balloon, though at this point he would gladly take that situation over the one at hand.

"Alright! Jeez." Todd cringed at the clinging 'woman', taking careful steps so that the body didn't brush his own on the way down the hall. "Okay, I need you to let me go so I can get the pills. Zim?"

"But, I! I ... won't die?" His voice became softer and slightly unsure toward the end.

"No. You'll be fine. I promise." Holding on to Zim's wrist to keep it in place, he managed to pry himself free before opening the vanity mirror to take in an array of health and beauty products. After searching through two shelfs of makeup, he finally found a bottle of Menstrual Complete. Luckily, there was also a supply of small plastic cups, so he filled one of those and placed it and two pills carefully into Zim's hands.

Zim raised the medicine, which he knew was more than likely a mild poison that would do just as much damage as good, like nearly all Earth treatments, to the ridiculously plump human lips, forcing the pills past them with a trembling hand. He gagged at the bitter taste-the calling card of poison, just as he suspected!-but chugged the water to get them down. "Putrid! Ugh!" He rolled the wide tongue around in the mouth, scrapping it against flat teeth as if the taste might come off. "And I feel no relief!"

"Yeah. I think it takes a few minutes to get through your system." Todd frowned into the cabinet under the sink that he was looking into before reluctantly pulling out a half-empty box of tampons. "This is all there is."

"This?" Zim snatched the cardboard box from the Squeak's hands. "All there is? For what!"

"Umm. For stopping the bleeding."

"I thought you said I _can't_ stop the bleeding! You are full of lies?"

"No. Okay. It's more to, uh, collect the bleeding, I guess. So it's ... less messy. Just read the box."

"Unacceptable!"

"Zim, I can't make it stop. There are hormone pills for that, but not any that would work in time."

"How! How am I even supposed to use these?" Zim turned the box around in his hands, looking at the same images at different angles in hopes of discerning something vital.

Todd pressed his back against the door frame to slip by him. Maybe if he went back to sleep immediately this would all just be a bad dream, or better yet, maybe he would forget it completely! Before he could get his hopes up, Zim rounded on him, shoving him into the wall in the hall and pointing a finger directly at his nose as though the human organ offended him by its very existence, which it very likely did.

"Squeak! How are these used! Tell to Zim! Tell to Zim now!"

"I don't know! Do I look like a girl? Wait, don't answer that. You just … have to insert one."

"Insert one where!"

"Com-come on, Zim. Even you have to know that. Where the bleeding is coming from."

"But ... inside. These go _inside_! That's disgusting! Zim knows nothing of the inner mechanics of human female bodies!"

"Really? Nothing? Even though you've been in there for over a month?" When the implications of what he was asking occurred to him, Todd immediately raised both hands to his sides, palms out. "No. Never mind. I don't want to know."

"I don't _care_ what you want to know! I have checked this body with instruments on my glorious moon base to make sure it is functions properly with the pak of Zim, and that is all! There was no reason to check such minor details!"

"Alright! Look, you're just going to have to figure it out then, because I can't help you. I don't have those parts, and even if I did … eww."

"Eww? Eww! _You_ think this is icky, human?"

Todd's eye twitched and he thought that he might have involuntarily nodded. "Yes, Zim, this is gross, okay? For future reference, anything that involves me seeing my mother's naked body for any reason is gross. Showing you how to do what you need to do with her body is even more gross, and I don't know how anyway."

He shimmied out of Zim's reach, back toward Letta's bedroom, then broke in to a dead run when Zim darted after him again. He had barely made it into the room when he was tackled from behind, which made him fall face forward onto the floor with Zim landing on the lower half of his body. "Ouch. Zim, get off me!"

"Never!"

Fingers digging into the carpet, Todd pulled himself forward across the room as best he could. When he was close enough to the nightstand, he jerked the phone cord until the phone itself fell down into his reach. He grabbed it desperately. "Zim! Let go of me! I'm going to call for help!" The crazed being finally got off, allowing Todd to sit up and lean back against the bed, but there was still a death grip on his ankle. He dialed one of the few numbers he knew my memory, speaking into the mouth piece as soon as the ringing stopped. "Letta, hi. I, uh, we, have a bit of a problem."

"Well, what is it? I'm kind of busy here. You know, work and all."

"Zim's on his period."

"Wow. Never thought I'd hear anyone say that seriously. But what do you need me for?"

"Well, there's only tampons in the bathroom, and Zim won't ... he doesn't know how to use those and-"

"Todd, they come with instructions."

"I didn't see any in the box. And anyway, he's not exactly familiar with human anatomy, is he?"

"Human? Psh. Maybe not _female_."

"Could you come home? Just for an hour or so?"

"No. It's the morning rush! I can't just up and leave. Besides, Zim needs to get over his hate for women. I mean, not being sexually attracted to them is one thing, but finding them disgusting is just wrong ... and usually means you're just overcompensating for something."

"But, Letta, I-"

"Look, just call one of your girl friends. Call ... I don't know ... Dib's scary sister."

"Gaz? She'll kill me!"

"Heh. No. She'll just want to."

"When Gaz wants to kill, she kills!"

"Like the Scary Neighbor Man?"

"A little."

"I don't have time for this. Forget about aliens and serial killers for a minute. Just try to divert her anger onto Zim. Maybe if she smacks him around a little, he'll learn some respect."

"That ... that might work. But do you think she'll actually help after that?"

"Todd, it's worth a try. I have to go before this grumpy old man that I'm ignoring becomes entitled to a free coffee. Shit, he heard me! Gotta go!"

He only squeezed the phone tighter when he she hung up. He couldn't ask Gaz, but maybe he could call Dib. That's what he would do. That's what he always did whenever Zim started acting up, so why would now be any different? "Okay. That didn't work out too well, but I'm calling Dib."

"That's what Zim _told_ you to do before!"

"I haven't forgotten."

"Lies!"

"Be quiet for a minute." Todd could still hear Zim muttering worried, but incoherent sounds to himself, but did his best to tune it out so he could recall Dib's number. Dib would know what to do! And if they needed Gaz, maybe he would get her himself. He cursed in his mind when he got a busy signal from Dib's communicator before trying the Membrane house phone. It rang several times, but no one picked up. They were probably all asleep. "Shit." This time it was out loud.

"What? What's wrong! There is no Dib?"

"Uh, not yet. I-"

"Nooo! What will I dooo!"

"Hopefully, you'll shut up and stop freaking out!"

"Not a chance!"

Zim's increasingly tight grip on his ankle had Todd's own tightening on the phone even more, and he was almost tempted to clock the him with it. He only knew three other numbers off the top of his head, and two of them were already out. He couldn't call Brian and tell him that his mother was having her first period! And though Elize might be useful, he was guessing that this was not the kind of situation that Johnny would do well in. He groaned out a deep breath before dialing Pepito. The phone rang several times, and he had almost given up when a groggy voice spoke in a nearly horse breath.

"Todd? Hey. Is something wrong?"

"Kind of." He cringed at how weak his own voice came out. "Sorry. I know it's really early-"

"What is it?"

"Zim. He's ... he, uh, started his period, and we don't know what to do."

Pepito cleared his throat, trying not to be annoyed. "Uh, Amigo, isn't that pretty basic?"

"Not for an alien! Or me. You know I don't know much of anything about that! I mean practically. All I've got to work with is theory."

"Okay, okay. Just stay calm."

"Calm? Zim isn't calm. Zim is insane! I mean, more than normal insane! He won't even let me go!"

"Todd!"

"Oh. Oh. Sorry."

"Good. Now listen. My mother helps the elementary and middle skools with this kind of thing. I'm going to borrow some of her stuff and come over here, alright?"

"Really?" Todd sniffled a little, overcome with a ridiculous amount of relief.

"Don't cry, Amigo." Pepito stifled a laugh.

Todd shook his head even though Pepito couldn't see it. "Oh, no. I think Zim's crazy is contagious."

"I hope not. Try to stay calm, okay? Both of you. I'll be over in a few minutes."

"Okay. Pepi? Thanks."

"Yeah. No problem."

Pressing the phone to his chest after they had both hung up, Todd let out another deep breath. "Okay, Zim, Pepito is coming, and he says he knows what to do."

"How is _that_ better!"

Todd shrugged. "Well, it's better for me."

"I hate you!"

"Don't start that again. He knows ... well, he knows more than me. And he's got educational stuff. That's always good." He frowned at Zim's still distressed face, for the first time realizing how truly scary this had to be for him. It was like all those girls back in the past when no one told you about that kind of thing because it was shameful, and it suddenly just happened one day. The history channel had said that they usually reacted pretty much the same as this. He thought that he probably would have felt it earlier if it had happened to anyone who wasn't Zim. And it would have been less gross and wrong if it had been anyone that was in an appropriately aged body ... or at least one that wasn't his mother's. "It ... it'll be okay, Zim. Periods only last for about a week."

"A week? A whole week! _Why_ must this _be_!"

"I think it's something to do with placental mammals saving body resources by growing a new uterus lining every cycle instead of constantly maintaining one."

"The exchange of nutrients and wastes-wastes!-that you refer to is _disgusting_! And only employed by species with greedy, parasitic smeets that only wish to suck their life energies away!" Zim shuddered at the very thought and the accidental reminder that the body he currently resided in was capable of being exploited in such a horrible way.

"Yeah ... I guess it is kind of freaky when you really think about it like that."

"No! Wait! I mean, yes! Yes, it is."

Todd smiled subtly. Finally! Some kind of agreement. Now, if he could just keep him talking until Pepito arrived, he could possibly extract himself from the situation. "It does seem a lot easier to just lay an egg or something to get the dangerous parts over with faster, and-" He paused when the phone he was still holding rang again. "Hello?"

"Squee?"

"G-gaz?"

"Did you call my house a few minutes ago?"

"Umm ... maybe."

"You woke me up. Do you know what time it is?"

"Uh, yeah. Sorry. Zim's having some ... problems and-"

"Oh, of course it's Zim! Zim always has a problem. It's called stupid, and the next time I see him in his own freakish, little body, it's going to be a black eye as well."

"Uh, okay. Is Dib there?"

"No. My stupid bother is out tracking big foot or something ... although the alarm that he set up for the belt sander hasn't gone off in months. He was already gone when I woke up."

"I guess that's why I couldn't get him on the communicator. If it makes you feel any better, I did try that first."

"I don't feel better, Squee, I feel awake. On a Saturday morning, I feel awake. Do you know how late I was up last night gaming?"

"Sorry ... again." He bit his lip for a moment, deciding on taking the risk. "Actually, if you're already up, could you, uh ... have you started your period?"

"What! How the hell is that any of your-"

"No!" He winced at the volume as well as the tone. "I didn't mean! I mean, Zim has his! That's the problem."

Her voice went flat, slightly disbelieving, but only because what she was hearing was so distasteful and something that she would rather be a lie. "Oh. Eww. That's ... horrible."

"I know. And Letta's at work, and no other girls really know about Zim really being Zim, so ..."

"So now you need my help? It's not a big mystery. Just suck it up already. Or look on the Internet."

"The Internet. I _could_ look on the Internet!"

"Yeah. Good job." She tried her best to convey an eye roll through her voice over the phone.

"Heh. Yeah. Thanks."

"Is there a gaming system there?"

"Yeah. What-"

"You know if I come over, I'm just going to kick Zim's ass until he does what I say, right?"

"I figured, but that ... that might be best actually. He's kind of ... not very cooperative. "

"Fine. I'll be there in a few."

"Thanks, Gaz, I-Gaz?" He sighed when he realized she had already hung up before doing so himself. "Gaz is coming too."

"What about the Dib?" Zim's eyes widened to show off a hopeful gleam, though he knew it wouldn't work as well with the human eyes. Irken eyes, even without the Invader-issued ocular implants, were much better at such things, what with their ability to change shade and shininess to reflect emotion.

"Look, Zim," Todd soothed, "I can keep trying to call him, but he's out on an investigation, so his communicator's not on."

"On an investigation? An investigation that does not involve me, Zim!"

"Uh, yeah. Why would that matter?" He smirked. "And why do you want him here so badly?"

"Because! The Dib is my sworn enemy! As such, he is required to take me _seriously_! He has no time for other ... investigations! And since we are still in the midst of an alliance, and this revolting situation is a result of-"

"Of you betraying us and trying to have me _killed_?" Suddenly, much of the sympathy he had just felt was no more.

"Oh. Yes, that." Waving away the accusation, Zim smiled a huge friendly smile, then forced a laugh to match. "Heheheh. But! That wasn't part of the plan! That too was a result of my attempts to save this pathetic planet!"

"Yeah, so you could destroy it yourself!" Todd said incredulously.

"Silence, puny worm! You know nothing of which you speak with your tiny head so full of corn! So like the Dibs, but without enough air to keep it inflated!"

"Wait. So, not only have you changed your mind about Dib's head being big, but now it's also the standard that you use to judge other heads?"

"No! Of course not!"

"That's what you just said."

"Lies!" Zim released the ankle he was holding to point at the Squeak. "Your brain size is simply so limited by the capacity of your minuscule head that you can not comprehend the words of one so mighty as Zim!"

"My head is not small. Not unless you're comparing it to Dib's as the standard like you so are." Todd smiled, both at the stupid, obvious argument and at the fact that it had allowed him to pull both his legs up, then move up to sit on the bed. He was now one step closer to being free of Zim's insane clinging.

"No! It's not true!" Zim got to his feet to take full advantage of the improved height that the otherwise inferior body provided.

"It is true! His giant head has become the standard for you because he's your ideal! Because you _like_ him, Zim! You feel human affection!"

"How-how dare you! Zim would _never_ feel something as loathsome as that! Invaders are above such lowly emotions! We need no one!"

"Okay, then how come you need us right now? Because if I remember correctly, you were latched onto my leg pretty good a minute ago, nearly in tears because we can't find Dib."

Zim started to argue, then closed his mouth, then open it again when his pak offered him no good response but only building frustration. "Your head is _tiny_! Therefore, you remember nothing!"

"Oh, that's just stupid."

"Is it stupid or is it genius?"

"No, it's pretty stupid. And why do you always-" Todd paused as a loud banging rattled through the house. "That's probably Gaz." He hopped to his feet, sprinting past Zim for the hall and then the stairs, far too relieved to be adding someone else to this ridiculous predicament. By the time he had reached the door, Zim was on his heels again, though this time thankfully not holding onto one of them for dear life. He opened it swiftly to see not Gaz, but her brother.

Dib raised his hand in a weak wave before he was pushed roughly inside by Pepito, who stood behind him. "Hey, watch it!"

"No, I don't think I will." Pepito sneered, stepping over the threshold and pulling the door closed himself. "Besides, watching is more your thing, isn't it?"

"It is when there's possible para-activity afoot! It's my duty to seek out and defend-" Stopping mid sentence when he abruptly found himself to be deep within the tight clutches of his enemy's ... his enemy's what? Desperate embrace? Now that was just weird. "Zim? What are you doing?"

"He's been like that all morning," Todd offered, himself at a loss, "How did you know to come here, Dib? Gaz said you were out."

"Oh, he was." Pepito crossed both arms over his chest, letting the dark pink bag that he was holding dangle from one wrist. "If by 'out' you mean in the bushes in my yard with night vision goggles. I saw him on my way out and thought I might as well take him along in case you need him."

Eyes widening, Todd looked back and forth between Pepito and Dib, thoroughly worried and slightly shocked that Dib was still alive. That must mean that he didn't see anything, right? But if he was at Pepito's, then he must suspect something ... probably because of that idiotic soul poker game. And that would mean that he was brushing up against a Velcro strip of danger, building up static, just begging it to stick to him. "O-oh. Thanks. Can I, uh, speak with you in private?"

"Wait!" Dib attempted to shove the mumbling Zim from his person, but his hands were clasped together at his back, and the female human body was pressed too close to allow him enough leverage. Something was seriously wrong with him. "Need me for what? What's going on here?"

Pepito smiled widely as he simply held out the pink bag for Dib to take. "This should tell you all you need to know ... or tell you all Zim needs to know. Still, have fun." The last thing he saw before Todd pulled him away by the arm was a wide-eyed look of horror behind Dib's glasses as he peeked carefully into the bag. It served him right too!

Going for the closest private space within the house, Todd turned the door knob to Brian's bedroom, which was located in the downstairs hall between the living room and the kitchen, across from a small study. He pushed it open with his shoulder, giving Pepito's arm a strong tug to get him inside before closing the door and locking them in. He leaned against the exit, speaking in a whisper, "Does he know anything?"

Letting out a deep breath to calm himself down, Pepito shrugged. "I don't think so. Not anything that I could pick up from his mind on the way over, though he might have had training for that."

Todd bit his lip once again. "What are you going to do?"

"Nothing so far." He stepped closer, a hand coming up to rest on Todd's shoulder. "Todd, I need you to do something for me. I need you to talk to him. Do you think he'd tell you if he knew something or what he's looking for if he doesn't?"

"I don't know. Probably." Todd looked down, raising his right hand to hold on to the wrist that was attached to the hand on his shoulder. "But I … I don't ..."

"Want him to die? I know. That's why I need your help."

He looked back up. "But what if-"

"If he knows something, I'll have to have his memories erased, but only back so far as needed. If not I'll just employ some demons to lead him elsewhere. But if I don't handle this fast and Father catches him instead, then I can't help what happens after that. We can't afford for anything involving the truth to get out, so people who get too close to the truth … well, they often end up in the basement."

Todd nodded, trying his best to ignore the loud yelling that could now be heard from the living room, and to focus on the serious issue at hand. Still, he couldn't help but be glad that it was no longer him arguing with Zim about … things anymore. And that Brain had taken Leon to work with him. "Okay. I'll try. But do you really think people will believe Dib about you when they won't even believe him about Zim? And he hasn't been able to do anything about Zim in all this time. Is it really any worse for him to know than me?" He frowned. "You're not going to erase my memories, are you? If I say no to giving you my soul?"

"No, Amigo. I wouldn't do that to you unless it was the only way for you to be safe." Pepito purposefully pulled on his own captured wrist, bringing them closer together as his voice dropped lower. "You're not a paranormal investigator who probably posts to all kinds of message boards about his theories and lack of proof. It's not really Dib himself that's the danger; it's the others that he might alert to his cause, probably on accident. There are still organizations, very old ones, looking for me. They're always watching any open occult channels for any hints to investigate."

"When you say looking for you, you mean ..."

"To kill me, yes. Among other things. They've been around for centuries, dedicated to stopping the Second Rebellion. They're charged with eradicating me specifically, but they're also generally opposed to … well, spiritual or astral beings interbreeding with humans." He smiled a little bitterly. "It's the source of witchcraft, of course. And witchcraft just leads to more of interbreeding, more blasphemy, and they used to take that pretty seriously back in the middle ages."

"You mean the witch hunts back then ..."

"Yes. Well, not all of them. Probably not even most, but quite a few. They were kind of the hidden power behind the movement. Most of what they told the public, or let them believe, was a lie to cover up what was really happening in the cases they were involved in. They lost a lot of power during the Enlightenment, but they're still around, watching and waiting."

He sighed. "I'm sorry, Todd. I should have told you before, when I first told you about my true nature, but I didn't want to worry you unnecessarily. Whether or not you pledge your soul to me, just being this close is dangerous if they come to suspect me. You'd be a prime target for 'questioning' just because you're my friend, even if you didn't know about me."

Todd shook his head. "They would be after me anyway, though, if they knew about … about my ancestry, right?"

"Not necessarily. If they could, the Purists would destroy all cambions and witches, as well as outlaw any use of the imagination that wasn't conductive to the world view that they support; however, they have to be careful now that they don't have as much power. They would only risk killing, and possibly being discovered, if the target was very important. But I'm determined that they will not find out. If that happens, you, Mother, all of my friends and family would be in danger because I'm the ultimate target."

Pepito closed his eyes for a moment, his grip increasing on Todd's shoulder blade, which hurt just a little as it poked into his palm. After what his father had told him about the key and Todd's equally important role in the Second Rebellion, he knew that he wasn't the only one in direct danger if they found out. If the Purists knew about the Prophet as well, then Todd could be just as wanted as himself without even knowing why.

He felt the grip on his wrist fall away, opening his eyes in time to see the side of Todd's head as he was wrapped in a hug. "I'm so sorry, Amigo. I don't want to hurt anyone that you care about, but if it comes down to it … I can't live in a bubble either, and I can't risk the safety of everyone who happens to be close to me."

"I know, Pepi." Todd leaned his head sadly Pepito's shoulder. "I know it's not fair. I just wish ..."

"That I had never told you? That we had never become friends?"

"What? No. Crazy, psychotic people and groups of them seem to be attracted to me for one reason or another anyway." He forced a small laugh. "Just that you didn't have to kill all those people. And that you hadn't done the stupid soul poker thing at my house last month. That's probably what made Dib suspicious."

"There haven't really been that many. People who've found out, I mean. And sometimes we can make a deal with them. We've even gotten a few souls that way." Pepito pulled back from the hug to look into Todd's face. "You're right about the poker, though. I'm not used to being around people who take those kinds of things seriously enough for it to become an issue, but I'll be more careful."

He nodded. "If you can wipe Dib's memory, why couldn't you with the others?"

"We could, it's just not as reliable as the other methods. You know how the Eye sees everything? Well, that's a way of reading the … the memory of the conscious part of the universe, the akashic records if you will. Every experience, every thought, it's all still there, and under the right circumstances, it can be accessed again."

"But you'd really do it for Dib? You'd try it; you promise?"

"Yes. I promise." Pepito forced himself to smile reassuringly even though he could see that Todd's eyes were shiny with worry and dread. The truth, of course, was that it wasn't for Dib. He was pretty sure they both knew it, but, like so many other things, he wasn't going to say it.

He didn't _want_ to kill Dib. Sure, he was annoying at times, but he wasn't terrible. When he had looked into his mind he hadn't seen the kind of sheer pettiness and violent noise that polluted the minds of many humans. Those kinds of things made him want to kill, which was why he had purposefully trained himself only to read thoughts when he needed to years ago. There had been a moderate amount of built-up pain from rejection in Dib's psyche as well as arrogant pride that motivated much of his endeavors to expose the paranormal. There had been the expected panic at being caught spying on someone, and a nagging worry that he could be in real trouble had flashed through his being for a few moments directly after Pepito had spotted him. The last one was what concerned him. That and the lack of information he had been able to discern about why Dib was so afraid or what he had possibly learned.

A sudden clattering had them releasing each other, and Todd turned to the door. "That probably means that Gaz is here … or that Zim went feral on him."

Pepito smirked. "I'm hoping for the last."

"Pepi …."

"What? I may not wish to harm him myself, but I can still enjoy some mild torment. If we were a normal family, I would have called the police and gotten a restraining order."

Todd laughed as he lead the way back into the living room. "Restraining orders: just another way of saying 'I love you'."

"Oh, yeah?" Pepito raised a brow. "I guess that's the fun part of dysfunctional. Did you hear that from Dib?"

"No, from Johnny. He claims he's been stalking the love of his life for … like eight years, I think. It's kind of sad, but mostly just creepy."

"Like Johnny himself?"

"Pretty much." Todd stopped on a dime when he saw that Gaz had indeed arrived. She had Zim backed into a corner. In one hand she held a shock stick, a miniature version of the ones that the guards at the mall carried around, and in the other she held Zim's upper arm.

"Are you gonna cooperate or what?" Gaz glared at the cause of her wakefulness, ready to zap him again if need be.

Zim wiggled his free arm at the electrical device, trying in vain to smack it from her hand. "No! Zim has told you, it's not going there!"

"Then calm the fuck down and stop complaining about it already! One or the other, Zim. You don't get to go around driving everyone else up the wall because you refuse to deal with your own issues."

"My own-my _own_ issues! These issues belong not to Zim! They belong to you hairy, smelling ape-creatures! And I will have no part in them!" His eyes tried to bore a hole into the pink bag that the Dib still held. "I refuse to give in to the demands of the pathetic Earth-video, so you can just take those … _things_ … and put them … _elsewhere_!"

Dib cautiously stepped closer to Gaz and Zim, both hands raised as if in surrender. "Zim, you don't have to use the tampons. But you know, from the diagrams I've seen on the Moon base, Irken women … and even Irken men don't seem to be that different from human females down there. So, uh, I don't really see why you're having such a problem with that part."

"Silence, Dib-worm! It is not the same at all! Irkens do not _leak_ from down there unless something is horribly, hideously wrong!"

"Yeah, but the mechanics are similar, so unless you've never … wait a minute! You've never had sex! I mean _any_ kind of sex! And how old are you again? Older than any human living on the Earth, right?"

"I have sex! Zim is male! If you are referring to my lack of involvement in some kind of sick mating ritual, then yes, Zim has never disgraced his superior self in that way. Irkens have evolved well passed such primitive passing on of genetic flaws!"

"We do have genetic screening here, Space-boy."

"Yes, but most of you stink-beasts are still produced without it and with such … horrible … processes! So full of juice!"

"Yeah, well, at least it's not jelly!"

"Jelly is by far superior to juice! Instead of slimy it is sticky, and sticky is goood!"

"Well, if sticky is so good, why did your 'superior' race stop having it then, huh?"

"Because!" Zim postured dramatically, tugging at Gaz's hold on his arm, then relaxed and shrugged. "Eh, because it engendered too much emotional ickiness and too much personal attachment to things other than the Empire."

One of Gaz's eyes twitched, then the other. Her hand shot out to shock Zim almost involuntarily. "Stop it." When he yelped like the stuck pig that he was, she turned on her brother. Dib managed to back up all the way into the couch before she did the same to him.

"Ow, Gaz! What was that for?" Dib sat up as best he could with his back lying on the cousins of the sofa and his legs on its back, feet poking over the top. He rubbed the sore, tingly spots on his arm and lower leg.

"I _said_ stop it. Stop arguing about whose sexual organs are superior the same way you argue about everything else. You're making me sick. I should have known that this was what puberty would be like for you." She glanced back at Zim. "Well, except the period thing. That isn't something that should have been expected … or even possible. But leave it up to you two freaks to go all out and break all the rules."

"What?" Dib flipped his legs over, landing on his knees on the floor in front of the couch, which was now between himself and Gaz, before standing back up. "Gaz, it's not my fault that he's in that body!"

"Oh, yeah?" Her eyes narrowed even more. "Well, you're the one who trusted him with Squee's life when you _know_ how he is."

"I had no choice! None of us did. Zim was the only one who even vaguely understood anaphasic life forms!"

"Stop, please," Todd interrupted, stepping in between them, "can't we just leave that in the past for now and deal with the present?"

"It's your life, so if you're not upset about it, then fine." Gaz shrugged, then turned back to Zim. "So, what are you going to do?"

Her threatening voice pulled Zim out of his near-daze, and he strode forward to snatch the plastic bag from the Dib's hands. "I shall put on one of these 'pad' thingies, but only for now! Then, yes, then! Then, Dib, you will take me to my one remaining glorious base, and I will transfer my pak onto my new and improved Zim-body! And then I will make sure that I never fall into a hideous situation such as this ever again!"

"Finally." Gaz threw up her arms at Zim's randomness. It had been simple enough to explain the options and that pads where less invasive, though more messy and inconvenient, but for some stupid reason, Zim had persistently refused either one for nearly thirty minutes of irritating squabbling. "Squee, I fixed your problem. Now you can fix me some breakfast."

"Okay." Todd shrugged. Making breakfast was undeniably worth it. "What do you want?"

"No! There is no time for foodenings now! Not if you're going with us to Zim's base!" With one hand on a hip, Zim cocked an eyebrow at the Squeak. "And you, Squeaky-toy! You never prepare this fast-breaking meal for Zim!"

"That's because I don't like you, Zim. And Gaz just did me a favor. All you ever do is … cause me to need favors. And don't call me that. It's weird."

"And all you ever do is … is eat corn! Corn-eater! Now! I am going to get this disgusting body that brought you life ready, so if you're going to eat more corn, you must do it now!" With that, Zim took his leave, marching up the stairs to change clothes and utilize one of the primitive human devices that would hardly make a difference in the relentless process that tore at the insides of the body he was in like a like a red-becked slor-beast in heat.

Pepito shook his head at Zim's retreating back. "What is his deal with corn?"

"Oh, it used to make his guts sizzle and his head throb. But the beans were even better." Dib smiled at the memory.

A drive later, Todd followed Dib into the I-Flip bathroom, speeding up when Dib opened the door to catch it with his back so none of the germs would get on his hands. At Gaz's insistence, they had stopped for breakfast on the way to the Membrane house where they were apparently going to take a space ship to a base that orbited the dark side of the moon. Inside, he looked under every stall to make sure no one else was present before leaning an elbow against the urinal stall next to the one that Dib was standing at. "Hi, Dib."

Dib paused awkwardly with his hand in his unzipped black jeans. "Uh, Squee? Do you think I could have some personal space? I'm kind of trying to pee here."

"I want you to leave Pepito alone."

"Seriously, it's more than a little uncomfortable when other guys stand that close."

"I'm being serious."

"So am I. I can't go when you're there."

Todd nodded, trying to pretend that this position wasn't making him feel like an idiotic jerk. "I'll leave as soon as you say you'll leave him alone."

Sighing dramatically, Dib pulled his hand out, giving up on some much needed bladder relief for now. "Oh, so I'm not allowed to investigate now?"

"I think most people would call that stalking, including the Diablos. Pepito was talking about calling the cops if it happens again."

"Psh. Cops. Never believing my stories … always confiscating my evidence." He paused to think about what the cops would say about his investigating that morning. "Alright, so maybe I got a little carried away. I shouldn't have been outside his house, but you've gotta admit that he is pretty weird."

"Weird? Compared to whom?"

"That's just it. Compared to himself. His normality at skool is weird when compared with how he acted when it was just us."

"Yeah, Dib, but some people change in stressful situations. Like Brian says, everyone is different and that doesn't make their form of coping with hard times wrong."

"Sure, sure. But it's not just that. He's too smart to be that popular."

"So is your sister, but she seems to be doing a good job at pretending to be shallow and trend-obsessed so far. I think lots of popular people fake it in one way or another. I'm not saying it's not annoying, but it's not paranormal."

"Squee, people go missing when they cross him. They end up dead or in a comma or-well, just plain weird."

Todd frowned, but stayed persistent. "And by weird you mean popular?"

"Sometimes, yeah." Dib shifted his feet on the tile floor, fully aware of how crazy his claim had to sound to anyone who hadn't seen the things that he himself had. "Now I know that part might not sound so evil, but have you ever met Willy?"

"The British guy?"

"But he's not British! Or charismatic!" Dib stretched his arms into the air in fast motions at the exclamations, then crossed them over his chest for the follow-up. "The elementary skool brainwashed him to be the perfect skool president. Under all that prop is a drooling moron with about as much social appeal as the skool toilets. Besides, have you ever heard a real British person talk like that?"

"No, I guess not. But I'm kind of glad I didn't spend that much time in elementary skool now … although maybe from Willy's perspective it was a good thing?" He shook his head at himself for getting lost in the side notes of the conversation. "So, you think Pepito brainwashes people?"

"I-don't know! I just know that something is going on at the skool, and some of it seems to be related to him. The disappearances have picked up a lot this skool year. I can't find a connection with him to all of them, but whatever it is is getting worse. It's something with the popular kids ... Pepito's not the only one I'm looking at."

"But you don't have any ideas about what?"

"Well, there's a chance, a very small one, that it's not paranormal at all. It could just be some kind of cult or gang, in which case I might turn it over to the police or the FBI. But the paranormal is everywhere, hidden in the mundane. I just need to turn over the right rock. I thought at first that he might be a werewolf."

"A werewolf? Really? I mean, I get how spiritual things can all be real because they're real in a different kind of way, but werewolves?"

"I saw a wolf slipping into his house this morning through the back door."

"Dib, that's just his dog. She's half wolf and half malamute." Those were her biological halves, in any case ....

Dib nodded. "Yeah, but werewolves often keep actual wolves as pets or pack members."

"Huh?"

"Human werewolves are a product of the Bad Wolf Virus. It's related very distantly to Rabies, but it's a DNA virus. The theory is that originally, a freak strain of Rabies merged with a DNA Virus in a wolf population. The result was a virus with less virulence. It still infects and affects the central nervous system, causing very mild, constant swelling, which can give rise to mania or psychosis. In addition, the virus incorporated some of the genome of the wolf pack. Like many DNA viruses, it spreads those genes to new hosts through horizontal gene transfer, meaning that as the disease progresses, mania and wolf-like behavior, and sometimes even appearance, may emerge together to create what we call werewolves. As these symptoms increase, the victim is more likely to infect others, sometimes forming a pack of werewolves. If his pet wolf bit him, then they would be part of the same pack."

"Wow. That's really freakish and scary … but kind interesting."

"Yeah?" Dib was startled for a second at actual interest. "I mean, yeah, it is. So, basically, the human group starts acting more like a wolf pack, defending their territory and honor, intimidating or killing enemies and turning new members. Often, the pact will try to live together or near each other, functioning like one big family unit. There is usually one alpha female and one alpha male; a couple who have social and sexual dominance over the rest of the group. Because humans generally have access to more resources and produce fewer offspring, other members may be permitted to breed as long as the alpha's offspring is given precedence. When the group becomes too large to be manageable, or when there is a fight that can't be resolved, one or more members may leave to start their own pack.

"Because of the mania, as well as the new-found feelings being produced by the gene transfer, they often develop odd beliefs that incorporate popular myths about werewolves, such as an affinity for the moon, the idea that they're in some way evil or predatory, that they're hunger for meat is best served via dead or living human bodies, and so forth. Religion also tends to reflect their werewolf identification. Some groups worship the moon or a mood goddess, especially Hecate because of her connection to dogs or wolves. Others take a more Jedaeo-Christian view, usually believing that they have made a pact with Satan to gain power or that they have been recruited by God to fight witches and demons in Hell to protect the living world."

"Wow. Why don't more people know about this?" It sounded like it would make a great Discovery Channel special! Creepy, but great; kind of like the one about head hunters. He suddenly realized that he was still leaning against the stall and pulled away, even more germ-and virus-conscious than when the conversation began.

"Flat World Syndrome. People want to believe that everything is simple and mechanistic and never-changing. It feels more secure that way." He smiled. "Boring, but safe."

Todd nodded. "But you seriously think Pepito's a werewolf?"

"I told you, Squee. I don't know. Just be careful around him. And don't … you know … share any DNA."

"Yeah. I'll remember to clean the needles when we're shooting crystal meth."

"That's … not exactly what I meant."

"I know, Dib, and trust me, I'm not planning on sharing any DNA." Even if Pepito wasn't a werewolf, which he wasn't, he had still been with too many people for that idea to be too appealing … at least when he was thinking clearly. Not to mention the scary aspects of both sex and Pepito.

"Good. If he tries to get you to do anything without a condom or share blood, it could be an attempt to infect you with the Bad Wolf. You'll need to tell me because if it comes down to it and you resist, he may suspect you know, and at that point-"

"I get it, Dib. I really do. I don't agree, but I get it. If anything like that happens, I'll tell you, but only if you promise not to spy on him anymore." Todd sighed. "It's hard enough at skool and in public when you and Zim are going at each other full throttle."

"What exactly are you trying to say?" Dib straightened his glasses indignantly on the bridge of his nose.

"I'm trying to say that it reflects badly on me when you're stalking one of the few other friends I've got. I just don't want this to escalate to the point where I have to take sides, okay? Please? Don't you have other cases … cases with evidence, maybe?"

"Squee, don't you think a threat like this, to human kind itself, is bigger than individual friendships?"

"No. I don't know. It might be if you knew for sure!" Todd took a few seconds to breath. That had actually hurt a little. He was starting to see why Dib's obsessions were such a source of scorn for Gaz. "Don't you think he would have killed Zim if he's a werewolf who wants me in his pack or whatever? Zim practically tried to _kill_ me, and I'm doing my best to forgive him for that, even though I'm pretty sure he's not even sorry, for you, you know."

Dib looked down at his combat boots, pretending to make sure his laces were in order, when what he really wanted to do was avoid Squee's watery, yet fiery, gaze. Of all the times that his dad and sister had tried to deter him from investigations, neither of them had ever employed direct personal guilt. "Fine. I won't stalk him. Just … make sure you watch out for anything suspicious. Oh, and maybe get me a DNA sample … then I could tell for sure!"

"Dib."

"Right. I'm dropping it, although I'm still going to investigate the disappearances separately. I can't help it if he has anything to do with them."

Todd shrugged. "That's fine with me. I … I hope you find out about the disappearances. Even if the answer is creepy and not what I want."

"Thanks, Squee. You're a good friend." Dib gave him a big smile and a pat on the shoulder. "Now could you leave me alone?"

"Heh. Yeah. Sorry." Backing out of the bathroom, he returned the smile, though his own was more apologetic. After darting through the breakfast crowd, he made it to their table, plopping down into a booth seat beside Pepito.

"Hey," Pepito greeted, "how'd it go in there? I ordered what you told me."

"Thanks. It went okay. Pretty good, I guess. As good as that kind of thing can go." He cringed when he saw Gaz, who had pulled a chair up to the end of the table, giving him a disturbed look.

"If you guys are gonna be disgusting freaks, at least do it when we're not about to eat."

"Yes!" Zim spoke up, loudly. "Keep your filthy bathroom habits to yourselves, wretched potty-party goers!"

"Eww." Todd wrinkled his nose and laughed at the same time. "What does that even mean?"

"You think Zim knows?" Zim demanded.

"Well, you _are_ the one who just said it."

Zim made a gagging noise, holding one of the still-human hands over the table to wiggle the fingers at the ickiness of it all. "It's when herds of you human beasts all flock to the waste disposal rooms together to do … whatever it is you creatures do in there. Those pig-skin-ball players do it all the time. I suspect it has to do with more of your filthy mating ritual behavior, but have no desire to learn first hand lest they attempt to soil my superior Zim-self with their horrible bodily … products."

"Oh, thanks, Zim. That's much better." Gaz rolled her eyes and blew bubbles in her chocolate milk. Maybe there was some way she could use that against Chunk … if it was even true. She looked to Pepito expectantly. "Well?"

"'Well' what?" He sat his coffee down, stirring a packet of creamer in. "I'm only really friends with a few people on the team. I think the bathroom thing is mostly roughhousing … pulling each others pants down, punching each other in the balls … a few bear ass slaps maybe. Not very classy." He shrugged. "The locker rooms and overnight trips to play against other skools are when the sex stuff happens."

Todd choked on his orange juice, nearly spitting some back out into his glass. He could see that Gaz's bubbles had overflowed from her drink, while Zim appeared mildly disgusted yet vindicated, and Dib, who had just returned from the restroom, looked highly confused.

"What's wrong? Roaches in the deep fryer again?"

"No!" Gaz punched him in the arm as he took his seat beside Zim and across from Squee. "Do you people think we could possibly talk about something less sickening? Like maybe bloody carnage? I'm lucky I have a strong stomach."

"O-kay," Dib said, "It's not my fault that roaches were in the deep fryer once. It was at the I-Flip across town, but still. You just need to face the facts, Gaz."

"And the more you talk, the more I feel you to need to face my fist! So be quiet." She moaned when she saw that their food was on the way. "Finally."

"Don't tell me what to do, Gaz. You might want to be a little nicer to me considering that I _could_ tell Dad that you drove my car to Brian's house. You don't even have a permit yet, and you're just barely old enough to!"

"Oh, I guess if I'm so young I shouldn't be flying us to the moon base either. Looks like you'll have to convince the artificial intelligence in Tak's ship to take you up yourself." She smiled sarcastically. "We both know how much she likes you."

"Fine. Then I'll just have to override her again."

"Yeah. Remember how well that worked out last time? And I thought you decided that the philosophical implications were too … what was the word again? _Philosophical_?"

"They were! Morally dubious, I mean." Dib looked down for a moment at his food. "In a very ... philosophical way. You know how I get when I'm excited."

"At a loss for words?" Gaz raised a brow. "Then why do never forget to talk to yourself? Because _that_ would be nice."

Pepito laughed to himself as he poured maple syrup over his waffles, feeling a bit of vicarious retribution against Dib and, despite her obvious rudeness, a growing affinity for Gaz.

Forty-five Earth minutes later, Zim and the humans had finally arrived at the Dib's house. As soon as the door was unlocked, he darted inside, looking around the gray-toned living room as he was suddenly struck my a sentimental feeling. "Now, where is my robot slave?"

"GIR, get down here!" Gaz yelled up the stairs.

"Coming, my Mistress!"

Zim's eyes widened at the words as he watched GIR hurl himself down the stairs, roll on the floor, then spring up in front of the Gaz human with a quick salute. His dog disguise had been died purple! "Eh! Mistress? GIR! What is the meaning of this treasonous talk? _I_ am your master, not that-that human!"

"Oh, hey-ya, Zimmy!" GIR tilted his head to the side. "Mistress Gaz reprogrammed me!"

"You-you reprogrammed _Zim's_ slave!" He pointed a gloved finger at Gaz.

Gaz shrugged. "Just some minor adjustments. His duty mode lasts until I turn it off, and I do mean until _I_ turn it off. He's loyal only to me in that mode. Otherwise, he's still annoying … maybe a bit less stupid … maybe."

"How! How dare you! GIR belongs to me, Zim!"

"Yeah?" Dib said, "Well, the Earth belongs to us humans and the other species that evolved here, but you're still here, Zim, trying to take it over! Reprogramming your crappy slave is the least of the fair play that you deserve."

"The least of what I deserve, Dib-stink? I suppose losing Minnie-Moose when my glorious base was destroyed was the _least_ of what I deserve as well, huh! Huh?"

"No-"

"Huh!"

"Shut-up, Zim, that's not what I meant! It's just … this invasion plan is an act of war. You know what they say … or maybe you don't because your an alien … but anyway, 'all is fair in love and war'. GIR is a war machine. If you really care about him as any more than that, then you'll be happy he's still alive … or functional or whatever. And if you don't, then you've got no right to complain."

Zim could feel the retched human eyes start to sting at the Dib's lowly attempt at diplomacy, but he commanded them to remain dry, instead picking out a phrase that he only half understood. "All is fair in _love_ and war, Dib-monkey? So this 'love' that you feel for Zim absolves the term of our truce?"

"Ugh! Zim, for the last time, I don't love you! And _you_ broke the truce when you tried to kill Squee! Because you miscalculated by placing your trust in Bitters, you're now at a tactical disadvantage to me. It's very simple. Gaz has reprogrammed all of your security except what's in your pak."

"What?" He looked to the Gaz-beast again. "My base? You reprogrammed my moon base?"

"Yeah, you wanna make something of it?" Leaning against the wall, she crossed one leg over the other as one hand curled into a fist, which she kept at the ready by her side in case he made a move. When he said nothing, only looking a bit crushed, she continued. "I only changed the security. Everything else is still under your control. Your stupid clone body is fine, but hopefully now you and Dib can keep your fights on the ground … and to yourselves."

Zim narrowed the human eyes at her, though her matching glare was still probably more intimidating than his own. It would still be even after he was back in his proper Zim-body, but then-then he would find a way to turn the tables! He was _Zim_! He would not be defeated by the pathetic, angry little purple-haired human! Or by her horrible Dib-sibling! He shrugged the human shoulder rigidly before speaking in a false upbeat tone that he had cultivated over the weeks of pretending to be the Squeak's parental unit, "Why, that's just finne, Gaz-human. As long as I may rid myself of this grotesque leaking meat-body, Zim is happy."

"Great." Dib clasped his hands together in front of himself, purposefully directing his gaze at Squee and Pepito instead of Zim, whom he knew was lying. Zim had gotten better at it over the years, and especially over the time he had spent at Brian's, but he had been observing him for far too long to fall for it! This time, anyway. "Gaz, why don't you go and warm up Tak's-er, my ship. I've just gotta get a few things from my room."

Gaz rolled her eyes, glad at least that the annoying arguing had stopped for now. "Alright. You guys might as well follow me out back. The ship is in the garage, but it's not built for this many people, so it's gonna be a tight squeeze. Zim and Dib will take an extra escape pod from the base on the way back."

Zim lagged behind the others as they followed Gaz. He might be able to make the departure plans work to his advantage.

By the time Dib had located his alien sleep cuffs and hidden them securely inside his trench coat, Gaz had the ship ready to go. She had cleared out everything nonessential so that everyone else could squeeze in behind the pilot seat. Zim already looked unhappy before Dib had even added himself to the small space that really would have only fit one person comfortably. He took a deep breath as it would probably be the only one he was afforded until they reached their destination and climbed in, forcing Squee further into the very back where he looked like he was neatly curling himself into a ball. He saw Pepito scoot back until he was probably leaning against Squee before his field of vision was rearranged so that he saw the clear dome of the spittle runner come closer and closer when Zim slammed his face into it.

"Stay out of my space, worm-child!" Zim clung to the back of the pilot's seat wearily to defend his position as he watched the Dib peel his face from the dome with a small feeling of self-satisfaction.

"It's not your space, space-boy! This was never your ship! And I have to sit somewhere; even if the only space left is beside a horrible space-monster." Dib shoved Zim back to make room for himself, though his shove wasn't nearly as hard and there wasn't really anywhere for Zim to go.

"Maybe not, Dib, but it is an Irken ship, and that makes it more mine than it will ever be yours!"

"Tak hated you, Zim! That's why she was here to begin with."

"Nu-uh. She said it wasn't about revenge!" He stopped to consider, then shrugged. "Well, she hated you as well, stinky huyman-worm! She just hated me more because I was more _worthy_ of her hate!"

"Yeah? Well, your freakish alien tongue looks like a worm! All segmented and thin and slimy!"

"Zim's tongue is not slimy! Your tongue is slimy! Slimy and fat and full of juice!"

"Juice? Well, your tongue is full of-" Dib's sentence was cut off as his head was slammed into the dome once again when the ship sped out of the garage at a needlessly fast pace.

"Shut-up, already!" Gaz growled to herself as she maneuvered the ship through the alley and into the sky, heading for the rising sun and the moon as fast as she could. Even though she was physically the most comfortable occupant of the ship, she thought that mentally, being trapped in a metal box with Dib and Zim was pretty close to her version of hell.

As the space ship broke through the atmosphere, Pepito felt Todd's grip on his arm loosen a bit, though his eyes never left the part of the windshield that he could see. There had been surprisingly little turbulence when compared to the movies he'd seen growing up, but he surmised that aliens that had been conquering worlds as long as Zim's people had would have perfected that type of technology by now. Their ships apparently also went a lot faster than anything from Earth did because it only took them about ten minutes of the Earth getting smaller and smaller before the Moon eclipsed most of the view and they reached the base where the ship docked.

Even though there was no way that he would have preferred to spend half a day in the cramped ship, he was a little disappointed in the tiny glimpse of space that he had gotten from the ride until they exited the ship into a large bay with a huge transparent, curved window that spanned the entire length of the wall that was facing the full Earth. He was barely conscious of his feet shuffling him toward the window until his hand came up to lay his palm against the cool surface. The Earth was a blue and white ball, bigger than the Moon looked from the planet, but not by much. The space around it was a surprising inky black with most of the stars obscured by the rays of the sun that were hitting the surface of the Earth, emphasizing the vastness of space as well as the fragility of the free-floating ball of life.

He saw Todd approach out of the corner of his eye, and then he stood by his side, also taking in the view. "It's all so small."

Todd tilted his head to the side, then nodded. "Yeah, but it's kind of beautiful, isn't it? When your seeing it in circumstances that don't involve being abducted for horrible experiments."

"Psft." Gaz waved a hand at the view before grabbing Squee by the arm and dragging him away from the window. "Horrible experiments are more fun to watch. Come on, we're going to play a game on Zim's supercomputer." She looked back over her shoulder at Pepito mid-step. "You coming?"

Looking back and forth between the view and the other two, he sighed. "I suppose."

"Yes, yes, run along, filthies." Zim's eyes narrowed at the humans as they frolicked merrily deeper into his Moon Base, probably spreading an abundance of germs along the way. Thinking that he should probably install some kind of automated cleaning device in the entry port in case of future visitations, he scratched the back of his itchy human head. The horrible fur was growing back now, and the wig that he was wearing only made it worse. Sill, soon-soon he would be rid of this body for good and everything would go back to normal! "Come, Dib-worm! You will assist me in the main lab."

"Yeah, I know, Zim." Dib rolled his eyes, but stepped closer to Zim and the hall that he knew lead to their destination all the same. "That's been the plan the whole time, remember?"

"Oh, I remember, Dib. I remember. And such ..._helpful_ help you have been!"

"Was that … supposed to be sarcastic or something?"

"Eh, I dunno." Zim shrugged. "It was supposed to be a warning for you to not insult the superior memory of Zim, but … it didn't really work, did it?"

"Nope."

"Oh, this body and its retched hormones! They're making me insane! Now, lets go before I become even _more_ insidiously demented!"

"Uh, alright." He took a few more steps, but stopped to look back when Zim stayed rooted to the spot.

"Just thinking about the horrors that might befall my brilliant Zim-mind is more frightening than being digested for a thousand years in the acid-filled belly of a Sarlacc. Truly, I might even start returning the vile and deranged love that you hold for me deep within your putrid liver!"

"Deep within my … liver?"

"Yes! Deep within your liver. Now stop dottling." With that, Zim strode by the Dib, leading the way to the lab where he had been working on his new clone-body, under the Dib's observation, for weeks. As expected, the body awaited him in a containment tube full of life-preserving liquid jellies. He marched right up to it and tapped on the glass, watching as the lekku bristled and jerked about, instinctively searching for the source of the motion and sound. "Excellent. It appears as though the body is ready to receive the pak."

"Are you sure?" After fidgeting nervously with his glasses, Dib pushed them further up the ridge of his nose. "Doesn't it still need a few more days?"

"What I told you before was merely an estimate, a safe one to be sure. There may be a few remaining weaknesses for a few more days, but it is viable, and I can no longer take the strain of this filthy body." He turned toward the large computer panel opposite the tube. "Computer! Ready the clone-body for paking!"

"Yes, Zim," a mechanical voice answered. "Oh, by the way, you have a missed transmission."

"Eh? Transmission …."

"From the Massive."

"The Massive … but the Tallest … and I haven't … and they haven't ..."

"Haven't what, Zim?" Dib narrowed his own eyes suspiciously.

"None of your business, Dib-worm! Now, quickly, out of the lab of Zim! I will call for you when the clone is ready!" He made a dismissive motion with his hand.

"Fine! But you better not be up to anything, not on my watch." Dib made a big show of storming out of the lab, cutting a sharp corner around a stack of boxes that blocked Zim's view of him. When he reached the exit, he stuck his foot out, quickly pulling it back in so that the door had opened and closed as if he had actually left the lab. Then he crept back up behind the boxes until he had found a good place where he could see Zim and the display screen through a small crack. Perfect. "I'll see what you're up to now, Zim." He clamped a hand over his mouth when he realized he had whispered that aloud, though lucky Zim didn't seem to hear him.

"Com-put-tor!" Zim commanded, "Verify that the Dib-monkey as exited the lab."

"Command denied. Security access not granted for subject Zim."

"Er! That wretched huymun!" Zim stomped the metal floor hard, wincing when it hurt both his foot and his still-aching abdomen. "Right. Just … play the transmission then." The human stomach in his gut became wobbly when the screen lit up with a static glow before it was replaced with an image of Tallest Red and Purple. They both looked exceptionally happy, and in the absence of quality snack food, that probably wasn't a good thing.

"Hey, Zim," Red spoke the first few words slowly, causally, as if contact between Zim and the Tallest hadn't tapered off into near nothing over the years before ceasing completely around a month ago. The next words; however, there spoken in a flurry of excitement. "We heard you're dead!"

"Zim, dead!" Purple brought both hands together in mimic of a prayerful motion. "Can you imagine?"

"Are you kidding? I'm been doing nothing else since the academy!" Clearing his throat, Red pulled his gaze away from his co-ruler to look back at the screen. "So anyway, we tried calling your base to check, but the transmission was never received, and you haven't been annoying us with your reports either, so one can only hope."

"What he's trying to say, Zim, is that we've had you declared dead. You are no longer a part of the Irken Empire."

"You're a tiny thing, Zim. A tiny, insignificant, little thing with a huge knack for causing trouble. As far as the control brains are concerned, you and your pak no longer exist. So the fact that your horrible data corrupted them at your existence evaluation will no longer protect you from the fate that you so rightfully deserve for the path of destruction that you call your life. In other words, if you're _not_ dead and you come back, we'll have you killed."

Throughout Red's little speech, Purple took on a righteous, victorious air. "Yeah! We'll have you killed. So there!"

"Hey!" Red pushed him aside to look in the direction that he had been standing in. "Is that donuts?"

Purple looked slightly miffed for only a second before his eyes landed on the same thing, which was still off screen. "Yes, I think it is donuts!"

"Well, gotta go, Zim! If you know what's good for you, don't call us back!"

"Yeah! And if you're dead already, then rest in pieces!" Purple, now off screen himself, laughed hard. "Did you hear me? I said 'rest in pieces'! Because he got himself blown up!"

Red only smirked, and then the transmission went blank.

Even though he had known how the Tallest felt about him for years, ever since that ridiculous excuse for a trail that had been his Existence Evaluation, Zim felt the human knees that were supporting him weaken beneath him, but just as he thought he was going to fall something else did instead. There was a loud crash behind him, and he turned around to see the Dib-thing lying on the floor in a heap of cardboard boxes, packing peanuts and their various contents. His frame became rigid with anger and belated determination. "The Dib! You! You were here the whole time!"

Pushing himself up and then standing, Dib quickly shook his head. "No, I wasn't."

"Yes, you were! I saw you!"

"No, I just-"

"Silence! Who said you could stick your horrible human nose into Zim's business?"

"Uh, you did when you came to my planet." Dib tried to make his usual claim seem forceful, though he knew that something was missing this time. He had felt what the Tallest had said like a blow to the chest just as surely as Zim had. It made sense, when he thought about it; Zim's mission had been Dib's life as much as it had been Zim's since his arrival. Right now, he felt like rug had been pulled from under his feet and there was no floor under it, only empty space. "I had to. I thought you were up to your old, filthy evil again. You've already proven that you can't be trusted."

Something in the alien's human eyes seemed to pale at his own softer words, and Zim looked away, back toward the screen, in silence that was somehow worse than screaming. Slowly, Dib stepped closer to him. "Zim?"

"I can't believe it." Zim shook his head at the screen, trying to keep his tone even as he forced the words almost thoughtlessly through the thick lips. "Why-_why_ am I so _amazing_?"

Dib frowned, his hand freezing in midair before returning to his side instead of continuing on its path to … comfort Zim? Man, this was a messed up day."Uh, didn't you just get fired?"

"Fired?" Zim turned around to face him with a huge smile that he knew probably didn't reach the eyes. He made his voice light and high the way he usually did when talking to the very young smeets from Earth. "Nooo, Earth-smell. Isn't it obvious? Zim has been promoted!"

"That didn't … sound like a promotion."

"Well, it was!"

Dib flinched at the sudden sharp volume, taking a step back as Zim took several forward. "Okay."

"That's right!"

"Yeah. I said that it was." He nearly tripped over another box before Zim finally stopped his approach, looking ragged and unhinged. It was actually a little scary … and sad, though this was possibly the best thing to happen to Dib in years. "So what does this 'promotion' entail?"

"Like I'd ever tell you!"

"Well, are you still gonna be on Earth?"

"As a part of my new _promotion_, I, Zim, am now the boss of Zim. As such I say that Zim shall reside, and eventually rule with an iron fist, of course, wherever he chooses from now on. And I haven't decided yet whether this worthless ball is still worthy of my time."

"You know if you leave, that it's still a victory for the Earth, right?" When Zim looked up at him, obviously shocked, Dib felt his own face reflect the emotion. He knew why he had said it, because a part of him liked their rivalry and another, older, part of him still hoped to win it and show the world … and because when he was around Zim, he tended to just blurt things out without thought, much like Zim himself.

But right now Zim wasn't looking at him mindlessly at all. The look was more aware … suspicious, of course, but something else too. There was a softness there that Dib couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Is this about that huymun affection thing again?"

"A-affection?"

"You know, that thing with you and me … that hideous 'love' thing?"

"Ugh. Not this again. I've already told you, Zim, I don't … I don't ...." He stopped to cough, his throat suddenly dry. "Do you _want_ me to love you or something?"

"Of course not! Why, that's … that's the most disgusting thing I've ever heard, as you well know!"

"Then why to you keep bringing it up?"

"Because I have yet to be convinced that it isn't true! And until I am convinced, the sickness will continue its white hot churning in my gut!"

"Zim, I shouldn't have to convince you that it isn't true. You never had any evidence that it was to begin with. Alien underwear isn't proof. And you're the one that sighed that note to me with 'luv'!"

"Oh, that! You mean you fell for that?" Zim bent over backwards a little, holding his churning belly as he laughed deeply. "Pathetic little Dib! You don't even know a mind game when you see one!"

"How could I see a mind game? Anyway, look, I'm not trying to say that you love me. Unlike you, I'm not completely stupid or incomprehensibly arrogant. I'm just saying that if either of us should have a churning gut or whatever, it should be me."

"Whahaha ... ahaha ... ha." Suddenly, he nearly chocked on his own laughter. "Wait! Does your gut churn as well?"

"Uh. What does that have to do with-"

"Quick! No thinking, just tell me that you hate me and that soon I'll be just another segment on My Serious Mysteries!"

"It's Mysterious Mysteries."

Zim leaned closer, his voice going deeper. "Just say it!"

He sighed. "I hate you, Zim, and soon you'll be just another segment on Mysterious Mysteries. Although, realistically, that show doesn't have the best ratings anymore, so it would be kind of a waste."

Zim grabbed the collar of his shirt to pull him slightly closer. "Did you feel it? The churning sickness?"

"Yeah, a little." Dib made a face and shrugged him off. "But that's nothing new. I usually feel a little sick around you. You're pretty gross actually. Remember that time with the hypnotic pimple that exploded in class and I had to clean the horrible goo up with a tiny piece of sponge?"

"You mean the time Pustulio exploded after you admitted that you loved him and wanted nothing more than to hold his adorable little hand?" Zim chuckled at the memory.

"Eww. Yes," Dib said defensively, "And then there was that horrible molt that you went through on Career Day and that time you turned yourself into a hideous blob of stolen organs. Not to mention your issues with meat and-"

"Yes! Zim gets the picture! My amazing, advanced Ziminess makes you churn as well!"

"Yeah. So now you see that I don't have those kinds of feelings for you." Dib looked down for a moment with a frown. Zim actually looked a little put off … and after just getting kicked out of his own race maybe being denied his stupid, narcissistic 'Dib loves me' fantasy too was a little harsh. His ego was so bloated that it might pop instead of deflating. But he wasn't going to pretend to _love_ him! "Alright, Zim, so maybe 'hate' is a strong word at this point." He cringed when Zim's eyes narrowed once again in obvious offense. "I mean, I wouldn't use the word 'friendship' or anything. But we … we know each other pretty well … and sometimes we have fun, right?"

"Fun? The struggle for your planet has been _fun_, Dib?"

"I don't know! Yeah, sometimes. God. I don't even know what you want me to say here.

"That's because I do not require you to say anything, Dib-worm. My promotion is none of your concern. I will let you know when I make a decision about this planet. Now close your noise tube and stand by for the paking."

Dib sighed as he watched Zim walk over to the medical table where the computer had already placed the new Irken body. It was slimy, or gooey as Zim would surely insist, and naked and laying on its front with its back exposed to the cool air of the lab. Every now and then parts of it, mainly the antenna or the fingertips would twitch. It made him shudder thinking about the fact that there was already a living brain in there … and brain cells in the antenna as well according the research he had collected the last time they were here. He had learned years ago when Zim's pak had attached itself to him that Zim's body was mostly just something to carry his pak around, and it had been creepy even then, before he'd had time to think about what that meant.

Once again the moral implications were very dubious. If that body wasn't paked or kept in the status tube, what would it become? He had no idea, and he was fairly sure Zim didn't either. "How long has your race been using the paks, Zim?"

Zim hissed as the two pak cords left the back of the human body, detaching more painfully from its spinal cord than they would have from an Irken one. There were still healing stimulants in that body so it wouldn't take too long before the wounds were gone, but that wouldn't happen in less than ten minutes. He snatched the pak out of the air when it hovered around to him. "Be quiet, Dib-fool! Irkens have always used paks; we were engineered with them. That's why our brains only hold knowledge for ten minutes when the pak is removed."

"Oh. I guess that makes sense." Watching Zim open up his pak to make manual programming changes, Dib cringed, much as he had done since he had known that it was pretty much like doing open brain surgery-on yourself! He couldn't bring himself to attack Zim when he was fooling with it after that.

After he had removed the official identification codes that no Irken was ever supposed to remove, Zim deactivated the personality temperance as well. Technically, the second program should have stopped him from being able to remove the code, but for some reason it had never done that when his pak was off. It did do other things, though, things that Zim was tried of bothering with now that he wasn't a part of the Empire. Besides, without the temperance suppressing his natural Ziminess, he would possibly become even more amazing! Then one day- he stopped, not in the mood for grand schemes at the moment and realizing that he was running out of time.

Soon, his brain would start oozing out intelligence once more! The Dib! He couldn't let himself get that weak in front of him! He held the pak over the new body, and after about thirty seconds, the cords shot out and ran into the two holes that the computer had punched into its back in a quick and efficient surgery. The pak was pulled tight against the back, and then emitted a shock that shook the body. One of the hands gripped the edge of the table.

Dib's eyes widened as the new Irken Zim sat up.

"I am Zim?" He felt his new body's arms, chest and naked crotch to make sure. Sure enough, there were no nipples, no bundles of fat, no freakish hole in his belly and no icky leaking from his cloaca; just smooth, hairless green skin. "I _am_ Zim! Better than Zim! Irken Zim! And I am free of that disgusting body! Finally, no longer will I wallow in filth with the smelly pig people in that filthy trough of dirt that is the Earth!" His eyes landed on the body that he had formerly inhabited, now standing to the side in a confused daze. "Uggh. Former human me, lie down on that table!" He pointed to a second medical table. "Soon your underlying Squee-mothery self will emerge."

"B-bbbuuttt," Zim uttered from the human body, "… Zim … I am Zim … Zim is me?"

"No, not anymore. Now Zim is me! Human Jennifer is you. Sad, I know." He jumped off the table to stand on the floor, feeling a surge of pride at his improved height, which he estimated to be about five feet and seven inches in human terms. Yes, quite an improvement, though he had been careful not to go too tall as not to arouse suspicion within the Empire that he had cheated, though that hardly mattered now. Stupid, ungrateful Empire. He smirked. "Computer! I require a cleaning! Dib-worm, take that human woman to the table!"

Quickly looking away from the naked Irken as a shower apparatus descended from the ceiling, Dib did as he suggested, taking the remaining human body by the hand and leading it to the empty table. Its eyes looked wild and scared and it was griping his arm very tightly as he pushed it down to lie on its back. "Uh, Zim?"

"Dib-human?" Zim, at least he thought that was his name, gripped Dib's arm tighter when he tried to pull away to talk to the other, better Zim, to pull him down close. "Brain … so … leaky … wrong … dark."

Dib gripped the hand back, not knowing what else to do. "Zim, is this?"

"It's normal, Dib," Zim shouted through the shower fluid, "In a few minutes the reminiscence will be gone." He frowned, purposefully looking away from the woman's body that still contained a small piece of himself, stupid though it may have been. Watching himself die, or fade away as was the preferred term, was not something that he had ever planned on doing, and he sincerely hoped that it would not be an experience that he would have to repeat. "Computer, sedate the female human body. Make it unconscious for … I don't know … four hours."

"Command confirmation needed."

"I confirm," Dib said quietly. He still held the hand until it released its grip on his arm as its eyes fluttered closed.

The computer supplied Zim with a new, fitting uniform without his having to ask and he changed into it quickly. The Irken fabric was nice against his skin, though if he stayed on Earth, he would once again need a new wardrobe. And he would have to explain his new found tallness. "Heh. A growth spurt ought to do the trick."

"What?" Dib turned around to look at him, the new height difference between them and the old uniform reminding him a little of middle skool.

"Eh. Oh, nothing. Just thinking over my options is all. Computer, a disguise!"

"So, you're going back to the Earth with us?"

"Does that imply that I have a choice?" Zim donned a copy of his standard contacts and wig, then rubbed at the lenses that seemed scratchier than ever before because his eyes were band new. They had only been ready for new ocular implants about a week ago.

"No."

He raised a fur-less brow ridge. "Then why'd you ask?"

Dib shrugged. "I don't know. It just sounded …" Nicer. It had sounded nicer. But Zim wouldn't appreciate that under the conditions. "It was a lead-in to my next question. Where are you gonna be staying? I mean, obviously you can't stay with Squee anymore, but since you look more like … you … again, my dad won't think your a hypnotized hobo."

"Nice one, Dib. But I'm not falling for your tricky … trickery. You just want me to stay so you can expose me now that I'm Irken again!"

"What? I don't need to do that now that you're-"

"Now that I'm what, Dib?"

"Uh … promoted. I don't know if you're a threat anymore."

"Nor do I, Dib-worm. All the same, I think I'll just get more fake monies from the computer and look for an inferior huymun dwelling unit of my very own until I make a decision." Zim narrowed his eyes a little. It had been one thing residing with the Dib when he had occupied a human body. Dib wouldn't harm another pig-smelly, besides maybe Chunk, so he could be pretty certain he was safe. And even though the Dib had admitted to the sickly churning feeling, he had denied its oh-so-apparent meaning, which was that he was weakened by the decease of loove and therefore could not harm Zim. "Computer, bring me monies!"

* * *

END CHAPTER!

Notes:

-Chapter title is a song by Jonathan Coulton, about Pluto and Charon, that reminds me of Zim and Dib. It can be found on youtube.

-Obviously, I made the Purists up. They're partly based on the radical congregationalist Puritans (like the Pilgrims who moved to New England) from our universe and their views.

-The Akashic Records: "a term used in theosophy (and Anthroposophy) to describe a compendium of mystical knowledge encoded in a non-physical plane of existence. These records are described to contain all knowledge of human experience and the history of the cosmos. They are metaphorically described as a library and other analogues commonly found in discourse on the subject include a "universal computer" and the "Mind of God". Descriptions of the records assert that they are constantly updated and that they can be accessed through astral projection." Info/more on /from wikipedia.

-"Restraining Orders: Just another way of saying 'I love you'" is a quote, but I have no source for it.

-Strange Loop: "A strange loop arises when, by moving up or down through a hierarchical system, one finds oneself back where one started. A strange loop is a hierarchy of levels, each of which may consist of objects, processes, or virtually anything else (such is the generality of the notion). Each level is linked to at least one other by some type of relationship. A strange loop hierarchy, however, is "tangled" (what Hofstadter refers to as a "heterarchy"), in that there is no well defined highest or lowest level. The levels are organized such that moving through them eventually returns one to one's starting point, i.e., the original level." Info/more on /from wikipedia.

-"Horizontal gene transfer (HGT), also Lateral gene transfer (LGT), is any process in which an organism incorporates genetic material from another organism without being the offspring of that organism. By contrast, vertical transfer occurs when an organism receives genetic material from its ancestor, e.g. its parent or a species from which it evolved. Most thinking in genetics has focused upon vertical transfer, but there is a growing awareness that horizontal gene transfer is a highly significant phenomenon, and amongst single-celled organisms perhaps the dominant form of genetic transfer. Artificial horizontal gene transfer is a form of genetic engineering." More on wiki.

-Bad Wolf Virus is a Doctor Who reference, but it's out of context here. As far as I know it belongs to me in the context I'm using it.

-Football team stuff happened at my high school...and stuff like it happened with some of my straight guy friends and their other straight guy friends.

-From the Moon, the Earth has phases, just like the Moon does from the Earth. The monthly cycle of female humans typically alines with the Moon phases, with the period occurring around the time of the New Moon. When the Moon is new from Earth, it rises and sets roughly with the sun. It is on the side of the Earth that faces the sun, thus its light side faces away from the Earth. Because of that position, the Earth appears full from the moon during that time, and Zim's Moon Base stays on the dark side of the moon, which faces the full Earth once a month, to help avoid detection. For more info: http : //home . Hiwaay . net/~krcool/Astro/moon/moonphase/

-The Sarlacc is a alien creature from Star Wars: "Because most Sarlacci inhabit isolated environments and rely on prey to stumble into their pit, they rarely feed. As a result, Sarlacci have evolved an efficient digestive process. The stomach of a Sarlacc slowly dissolves prey into nutrients in a painful process that can last for several thousands of years. Victims are kept alive in the acid-filled stomach throughout digestion and few ever escape." More on wiki.

-"The Alaskan Malamute is a generally large breed of domestic dog (Canis lupus familiaris) originally bred for use as an Alaskan sled dog. It is sometimes mistaken for a Siberian Husky, but in fact is quite different in many ways." Wiki

-Red and Purple and Zim's reaction to being fired are largely inspired by the script for The Trial, in which Red and Purple try to have him killed and he actually realizes it. The Trial, and most or all of the other scripts, are considered cannon in SubAwake, and there are lots of references to them throughout the fic. Those scripts can be found at the bottom of the closet at RWaM & GIR: http : //www . Roomwithamoose . com/closet/

-Cloaca- "In zoological anatomy, a cloaca is the posterior opening that serves as the only such opening for the intestinal, reproductive and urinary tracts of certain animal species. The word comes from Latin, and means sewer. All birds, reptiles, and amphibians possess this orifice, from which they excrete both urine and feces, unlike placental mammals, which possess two separate orifices for evacuation. Marsupials and monotremes also possess one (in marsupials and a few birds, the genital tract is separate)." Wiki. This is part of my personal take on Irken biology/reproductive nature. Except paks are very efficient with nutrients and can store them for latter and convert them, so Irkens wouldn't actually defecate unless they ate something their bodies and the pak couldn't digest (like some food from another planet/biogenesis). They urinate (regularly, but not anywhere near as much as humans...and it depends on how much they drink, obviously) and the urine usually evacuates the small amount of extra stuff their body can't use.


	20. Chapter 20

**Sublime Awakenings Chapter Twenty: Growing Taller  
**

**

* * *

**Warnings: Some coarse language, violence, implied sexual themes, Moopiness of Zim, identity politics (forced labeling, biaphobia, etc), more original characters, a dash of religious intolerance

* * *

Leon sat on a swing with a wide rubber seat, the kind that always seemed to leave a black stain on the back of his jeans on hot days. He frowned as he kicked the wooden chips on the ground to push the swing slowly back and forth, enough to look like he was at least trying to have fun. When his mom had taken him to the park near their house, she had always made him wear black pants so it wouldn't matter. Now he was just going to ruin another pair and cost Brian more money probably, though he knew the money wasn't the only reason he was here. Brian had a lot more money to spare than his own family had ever had just for paying bills.

There were other kids on the small playground at the adoption center, screaming and chasing each other and kicking up dirt and chips, but he did his best to ignore them, just like he did the other kids at skool. He knew already that none of them would want to play with him today or any other … not unless it involved pain. It was almost like they could sense his weakness and it drew them in for the kill, like on those nature shows that Todd was always watching. He felt his eyes start to sting and he narrowed them to block out the sun, wishing that he could blame it for all of his problems.

Sadly, he had been here every Friday for the past three weeks, ever since Brian had told him that his mom and grandpa weren't coming back, to spend time with the couple that he was currently watching through the window of the bland, square brick building between the playground and the road. They were in there with Ms. Diablo and some other social worker people, taking tests and signing papers. They did that a lot, and he figured there must be an awful lot of papers. Brian said that they wanted to be his new parents, but he didn't want them.

He didn't want new parents period, but especially not _them_. After the first visit, Shmee had told him in his dreams about how Sarah and Thomas Mather were bad people that only wanted to hurt him once they got him alone. They would cut him into little pieces before they killed him, and that would hurt a lot. And the thin Knee man that came to see Todd sometimes, he was bad too, even though he made Happy Noodle Boy. If Shmee said it, Leon knew that it had to be true.

"Hey."

Shmee was an elf sent by his mom to keep him safe, and Santa's elves didn't lie; they didn't even need to be on the naughty or nice list because they were never ever bad. And even he could see that the Scary Neighbor Man was moody and really angry.

The Scary Neighbor Man: Leon didn't know why he thought of the Knee man that way sometimes. He was a little scary, but he didn't live near Lee or Brian either. He wasn't a neighbor, except maybe in the way that Brian's church said that all people were moral neighbors.

"Hey, you, weird kid."

He looked away from the building and back into the direction of the sun, where he could make out a blond girl with pigtails a couple of years older than himself. "Uh, hey."

"Are you retarded or something?"

"No …."

"Then why don't you ever play with us?" She paused to gesture behind her with a thumb. "See Derick over there? He's in fourth grade, and he says you must be retarded."

"Well, I'm not."

"Well, he says you are."

"I'm still not." He shrugged and glared at both her and the sun.

"Then prove it."

He sighed, halfway to giving up. "How?"

"You have to help us sing the retard song to Maxine." She pointed again, this time at a short, brunette girl in yellow overhauls, playing by herself with two twigs in the sandbox. "Look at her over there by herself … with those sticks. She's so stupid. Sticks don't cost anything! They can't be toys! So she's retarded for sure!"

"I'm not doing that. It's mean."

"So?" She asked, challenge embedded in her high pitched voice.

"So … it's wrong to be mean. You're gonna to be on the naughty list."

"You still believe in Santa? You _are_ retarded."

"Shut-up! You don't know anything."

"Why don't you make me, huh, retard?" She turned her head to the boy she had pointed to before. "Hey, Derick, come're!"

Leon's hands tightened on the chains of the swing as Derick threw down Maxine's now broken sticks and ran over to stand behind the pig-tailed girl.

"He believes in Santa, and he's afraid he's gonna be on the naughty list!" She giggled cruelly.

"Ha! What a little baby! No wonder those people wanna adopt him. Couples like that only want babies."

"Yeah. Too bad they don't know he's retarded yet." The pigtailed girl looked back to Leon. "You'll be right back here as soon as they find out you're damaged goods. Then they'll hate you as much as your real parents do."

As she stepped forward and Derick walked around to the back of the swing, Leon could feel his breaths coming faster. Vultures, that's what they were. Except he wasn't dead yet and they still wanted to eat him alive. He looked back to the building hopefully, but no one was watching. Then he nearly fell off the swing when he was pushed roughly from behind and then from the front; higher and faster until the swing set was squeaking with every trip up and down and he was almost afraid that the whole thing would topple over.

He tried to scream for help, but Pig-tail and Derick were laughing and chanting something stupid and repetitive and somehow angrily upbeat that was louder than he was. From the building it probably looked like they were playing, which meant he was on his own with them. Derick pushed him again, and the swing went higher than the top bar of the set. There was too much slack in the chains and he came down hard, too hard. His stomach felt too light like there was suddenly no gravity and then he fell back and out of the swing, landing roughly on his back on the wood chips that knocked the air out of his lungs.

As he huffed and struggled for breath, the sky above grew white, really white. He could hear the others laughing and saying things that he couldn't make out and he felt warm, unwanted tears leaking from his eyes. Somehow crying always seemed to make the pain worse instead of better, but once he had started it was hard to stop. His skin was hot and he could taste metal … or was he hearing it? And screaming. There was screaming now.

Forcing in and out a few deep breaths, he prompted himself up on his sore elbows and blinked until he could see through the white. The first thing he could make out was the seat of the swing he had been in at his feet, ripped free from its chains. The next was Derick on his left with one of the chains wrapped around his neck. His feet were inches off the ground and he was tugging fiercely at the the metal as his face turned darker. On his other side, Pig-tail was tied, upside down, to one of the poles of the set with the other chain. She was trying to scream out, but that seemed to be becoming increasingly hard as the end of the chain worked its way further into her mouth.

Leon scrambled back away from the swing set and the children, then pushed himself up and turned to run, but as soon as he did, he hit something. He looked up to see Letta staring down at him with wide eyes.

She grabbed him roughly by the arm to move him to the side, but didn't let go as she gaped at the scene before her. Both of the other kids were on the ground now, like Leon had been before, both in tears. The chains of the swing were slack, hanging from each side, though she could have sworn she had seen something else moments before. And there was a deep red bruise forming around the boy's neck.

"Children! Children." Rosemary stopped just short of the swing set to pull her shirt back down from where it had rod up as she ran over and to catch her breath. "What … what's going on here, exactly?" Maxine, who was now standing several yards back, had run into the office to tell her that Derick and Lizzy were picking on Leon, but now they both looked more beat-up than he did! When the two kids on the ground didn't answer her, Rosemary looked back to Letta, but she only shrugged helplessly. "Maxine, go get the nurse, honey."

---------------Scene Shift---------------

"So, Todd, how's your mom doing now?" Zita asked as they walked through the courtyard from their last class of the day toward the front of the skool building. After Ms. Bitters had been fired, the skool had split up all of her classes and divided them between the remaining English teachers, and she and Todd had both ended up in Ms. Graham's last period. She was without a doubt a better teacher, and three of her friends, Pepito, Bryan and the Letter M, all had her for that class as well. Still, Zita, for some reason, had been one of Ms. Bitters favorite students, and that had almost guaranteed her an 'A' in her classes, so it was a bit of a mixed bag for her.

He grimaced. "Oh, she's … she's spending the weekend in the mental institution."

"Oh." She slowed down a pace to send Pepito an awkward, 'oops' look.

Todd smiled at her reaction and plowed on, deciding he didn't care if the blunt, though partial, answers were too honest. "No, she's good, though. She's over the worst of the delusions now and the drugs are out of her system." And Zim. Zim was out of her system, finally. She had come to a few weeks ago after they had returned from Zim's moon base. As it turned out, he had experienced most of the withdrawal symptoms for her while in her body. She had awoken to clear reality, and she hadn't taken it particularly well. Luckily, Gaz had stayed late with him after the others left, and she was very good at enforcing calm. Gaz also, dispite her twisted affinity for dooming, apparently had a strange respect for her own brand of family values, because his mother had gotten a good, long lecture about them and how they should come before her 'lame-ass, whiner fears and addictions'.

"Yeah," M said when the conversation lagged, "I heard Bitters pumped her full of some strong shit. It was bad, huh?"

"Sure," he laughed. "Bitters. Bitters must have been pushing pills on the corner after class for years."

"Todd." Pepito gripped his arm lightly as they made it into the main Junior hall where their lockers were, choosing to follow him to his as his voice dropped lower and the others fell back. "What are you doing?"

"Talking, Pep. I thought you wanted me to." Todd shook off his hand, sending him a sarcastic smile as he opened his locker to exchange a few things from his backpack.

"I do, but you're being really rude."

"I'm just giving them what they want. Juicy inside details. Well, superficial ones anyway."

He rolled his eyes. "That's not what they want."

"Oh, come on. It's what everyone here wants. It's the only reason they even talk to me."

"That's ridiculous."

"Maybe, but it's still true."

"It is not true." He frowned when Todd gave him a heated look as he slammed his locker shut. "Well, okay, it's not true for my friends. They want to know you because you're my friend too."

"You mean because you told them to be nice to me? So you can try to salvage my reputation now before the trauma popularity wears off and I sink back down to Dib levels?"

"What's wrong with that? Besides, you were never at Dib levels." Pepito sighed. "Look, we'll talk about it later, alright?"

"Fine. I'm going outside." He turned to walk toward the exit, though he could hear Pepito scrabble to drop things off at his own locker in time to follow him. When he reached the front of the building, he took a deep breath of the fresh Fall air as he sat on the long, backless bench, leaning against the brick of the building behind him with his backpack in his lap. He kept his sight loosely focused on the half-circle pick-up lane ahead of him as Pepito came out to plop down next to him. He laughed. "Is it later already?"

"No, but I couldn't resist. Why are you being such a jackass today?"

Todd frowned, then scooted so that he was at an angle toward Pepito, who was sitting with his legs spread wide to take up more space than necessary. He was hunched over slightly, resting his head on a hand that was propped up by an elbow on his right knee. "I'm sorry. I tried to tell you nicely, but you just keep pushing with the popular thing."

"Would you rather be unpopular?"

"Maybe. It might be less pressure."

"It's not. You know it's not. Not unless you find the exact medium where no one cares enough to pay attention to you either way, and that's a lot harder than it sounds, not to mention hugely ungratifying. And it's not like my friends are the most popular jerks here. I do have standards. So do they; they're not so bad."

"They're bad enough that I have to impress them within my allotted spotlight time, though, right? And that I couldn't be seen with Dib anymore at skool?"

"I don't know why you want to hang out with him so badly anyway. He's always with Zim, and Zim is just ..."

"The most annoying person at skool? Maybe." He sighed. "You know I don't like Zim, not after what he did. I just wish you wouldn't push me, and that it didn't have to be one way or the other. They've gotten a lot better lately."

"It's true." Zita smirked when they both looked up in surprise as she pushed herself up a few inches to sit on the railing opposite the bench to face them both. She braced herself with her right arm around a metal pole that held the porch up. "Freakishly true, actually. As far as I can tell, Zim and Dib haven't argued over the Earth since Zim came back to skool. Now most of the rumors about them are just about their relationship-status." She smiled. "But I wasn't going to ask you about that, Squee."

He forced a small smile, not sure if he really believed her. That wasn't really the most bothersome part anyway. "Thanks, Zita."

She smiled too. "I don't personally care who you hang with. As long as you make Pepi happy, you're cool with me. Although, if you want some advice: you don't have to cut all ties with Dib at skool; you just have be careful about the length and placement of time you spend with him. Like, eating with him at lunch is generally bad because a good portion of the skool sees that right away, but being his lab partner or something would be okay. You know?"

"...yeah." He looked down at the cracked concrete that his sneakers were resting on as they were joined once again by Bryan and M, along with the addition of Missy and Crissy. He really wasn't sure what his problem was with befriending these people. Sure, the thought of purposefully monitoring when he could and couldn't spend time with Dib and a few of the other unpopular people he'd taken a liking to recently felt sort of wrong, but it wasn't a novel concept. Maybe that was just it; he'd been thinking something similar for a while, not for the popularity, but just to be able to have a normal conversation that didn't center around the drama between Dib and Zim more often than not. There was also the fact that Dib probably wouldn't notice since he was always so obsessed with Zim and other paranormal things. Real, interpersonal, non-obsessive relationships.

It was tempting until Crissy lit up a cigarette that she took from her purse. At least Dib didn't smoke, or really drink, or go to sex parties on the weekends. He hoped he wasn't blushing as images of a few pictures that Pepito had sent him on his new cellphone from his time at Missy and Crissy's flashed through his mind.

"So," Zita spoke up when no one else seemed to be doing so, "Pepito, are you still coming to my house after debate?"

"Is your mom still working late?"

She nodded. "And Dad's outta town."

"Cool." He fought off a smile when M took a step toward them, and Bryan held him back by the arm.

"Dude, we've gotta go to basket ball practice or coach will make us run extra laps again."

"Yeah." M still continued to stand there, staring speechlessly at his ex-girlfriend as she carelessly combed her long, green hair out of her face. She could have just moved to the bench where the wind wasn't blowing from behind her and she wasn't in perpetual danger of falling. She also could have waited until he was out of ear-shot before making plans to fuck a mutual friend.

"What?" She suddenly looked his way, blinking long black eyelashes against her tan skin.

"Nothing. Come on, Bry, we're gonna be late." He turned to go with a grunt of annoyance, giving the heavy doors an extra hard push in hopes that they would slam shut behind him.

Zita smiled once he was out of sight. "You think it worked?"

"Oh, yeah." Pepito laughed a little. "He's jealous. I'd say you could have him back by the end of the week, unless he needs some time to cool off. If you want him back, that is."

"I'm not sure yet, but after what he did, he can sweat it out for a while anyway."

"Awesome. You do want me to come over, though, right?"

"Sure. My dad's not really out of town, so we'll only have a few hours."

He nodded as Crissy passed him her half-finished cigarette, but stopped with it a few inches from his lips to look sheepishly at Todd, who was holding his backpack much too tightly. "No thanks, Criss, I'm trying to quit … again."

"Thank God!" Zita clapped her hands together, which made her nearly fall off the railing. She quickly latched back onto the pole, speaking in a calmer voice as if it would help her stay balanced. "Those things are disgusting."

"Oh, burned!" Missy laughed from where she was sitting on Todd's left. "I wish she would quit." She looked over at her sister. "Soon you'll be the only one."

"Whatever. I've still got Bryan."

"Yeah, but he's falling behind on the team. He told me that if he doesn't do better, the coach is going to call his parents about finding a pack in his gym locker."

"How … did the coach find them in his locker?" Zita asked.

"... I didn't think to ask. He said it was even rolled up in his socks or something, so, he had to be looking pretty hard for something."

"Or _be_ pretty hard for something." Crissy nudged Pepito in the ribs as she giggled. " Am I right?"

"Eww. I hope not." Missy looked down at the backpack in Todd's lap. "Hey, Todd, you're bag's vibrating."

"Oh." He dug his new cell phone out stiffly and hit the talk button after recognizing Letta's number. "Hello?"

"Hey, Squee. We've got a small problem here at the center, so I'm gonna be a little late … like thirty minutes late, picking you up."

"What happened?"

"I … I have no idea. I think … Lee got into a fight with some other kids, or maybe somebody beat them all up, or … it's crazy. But don't worry; everyone's fairly okay."

"O-kay."

"I'll tell you about it later."

"Are we still going to the grocery store?"

"Probably."

"Alright. If I'm not up front when you get here, just give me a call."

"Sounds good. See ya."

"Yeah." He pressed the end button, then quickly stuffed it back into one of the front pouches of his pack, paranoid that somehow the few pictures of the twins that he hadn't deleted yet would pop up onto the small screen.

"What was that about?"

"Nothing really. Something happened with Leon." He shrugged when Pepito raised a brow at him. "He got into a fight or something, so Letta's picking me up late."

"Do you need a ride home-er, back to Brian's?" He exchanged a glance with Zita, then looked a his watch. "We have debate practice in about ten minutes, but I could take you after that. You can even watch if you want."

"Nah. She shouldn't be too late. Thanks, though."

"Oh, we could take him!" Missy gripped his upper arm, then leaned back and forth in her seat to make them both wobble. "We're about to leave anyway, right Criss?"

"Yeah. We've got a family thing at four. We could drop you."

Todd forced yet another smile. "No, I think I better wait. I kind of have a thing too, and I have to run some errands with Letta."

"Aww. That's too bad."

"I really appreciate the offer."

"Oh well." Crissy put her cigarette out on the wall, then dropped it to the concrete behind the bench before standing. "Well, have a good weekend, I guess."

"Yeah. You too." He breathed a sigh of relief when the two walked out to the parking lot to the car they shared.

"Finally." Zita hopped down from the railing. "Those two are such fangirls!"

"Now, Zita, be nice," Pepito said.

"Hey, I am nice. Are we ready for debate?"

"Yeah. You go ahead, and I'll be there shortly."

"Kay."

When she shrugged and walked back into the main building, Pepito stood, pausing for a moment to look down at Todd. "Are you sure you don't need a ride?"

"Yeah. Letta will be here before your practice is over anyway."

"Alright. Have fun with the groceries."

Todd caught his hand as he turned away. "Pep?" He stood too, and Pepito turned back around to face him.

"Yeah?"

"We're not fighting or anything, are we?" Todd asked, a little abashed.

"I'm not." He smiled. "I'll back off about the friends, okay?"

"No. I … they're okay. Just, leave the Dib thing alone?"

"I would if you would." Pepito snorted. "You know, Dib-thing, because-" He stopped when Todd didn't seemed to see the humor, "Okay, I will."

"Thank you."

"Sure." He looked down at his watch again. "Uh, I really do have to go. Are you sure-"

"I'm sure."

"Alright. Bye."

"Bye."

Todd released his hand, but he still lingered. "Hey. Do you wanna see a movie on Saturday?"

"I don't think I can. Letta's grandparents are flying in from Florida, and Brian wants me to do things with the family."

"Oh. Well, that's good, right?"

"I guess." He looked down for a moment, not wanting to admit how much little things like that meant to him because it would just set him up for more pain when he eventually had to move back in with his mother. Sixteen was probably a bit too old to expect to be adopted. Leon was a lot closer, and Brian was currently trying to find him new parents.

"Well, call me, okay?"

"Okay."

"I really have to go."

"Then go already." Todd laughed.

"Right." Giving him one last smile, Pepito turned to jog back to the building.

He shook his head as he sat back down, then unzipped his backpack to look for the book he was currently reading. After he'd opened it to his bookmarked page, his eyes ran over the words, but he was annoyed to find that he wasn't absorbing it properly. "Damn."

"What's your problem?"

He looked up to see Gaz standing in front of him, her arms crossed over an orange, low-cut shirt that showed off a matching plastic, half-moon-shaped pendant that lay against her small cleavage. The sight still nearly made him do a double take. "Nothing."

"Good." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You'd tell me if your mom gave you anymore shit, right?"

"Sure." He frowned when her gaze didn't let up, and Dib made a vigorous nodding motion from where he and Zim stood behind her. "Yes."

After a few more seconds, she nodded and took a seat beside him to play her Game Slave.

Dib sat on his other side with a friendly smile. "Guess what?"

"What?" He closed the book and put it away, sure that whatever new obsession it was would take up all the time that he had to wait anyway. Still, it would be a nice distraction from the mess with Pepito, and he wasn't focusing on reading anyway.

"I was talking to Rob about the Halloween decorations for his store last night, and he really wants something big this year, so I told him about you."

"What? What about me?"

"About the aliens and the nightmare visions."

"Dib!"

"Well, he'd kind of already read that article from the Paranormal Digest, so I figured he might as well know how things really went down. Plus, he's not a hard sale. He already belongs to the Children of the Bright and Shinnying Saucer."

"Morons!" Zim added. "Saucer Morons!"

Dib rolled his eyes. "Yeah, they're more religious than scientific, and that can be dangerous. I mean, they practically worshiped Zim this one time, but he was too st-never mind. Anyway, Rob's got a lot of post traumatic stress from being an abductee a long time ago. The aliens were really stupid and tried to make him mate with a chicken, and now he's got a bit of a chicken phobia."

Zim laughed. "Feeble human-chicken breeders! They thought that the Mighty Zim was human! Which ...uh, which I am, of course!"

"Did they try to 'fuse' things to you with duct tape?"

"Yep. They were pretty stupid, even compared to your primitive species. The Tallests, they couldn't … couldn't believe. Hnm. Zim is going to go wait in the car."

"Alright, Zim, but no driving or I'll call the FBI, understand?"

"Yes, yes. The comprehension of Zim is vast and unrivaled," he said flatly as he caught the keys to the dirt-runner when Dib tossed them his way, then turned to walk slowly toward the skool parking lot, which was now mostly deserted.

"He seems kind of different." Todd said in a low voice.

"Yeah, he's just in a funk. Something to do with the new body chemistry, I think."

"Psh." Gaz contributed a short, sarcastic laugh, but didn't look away from her game. "I hope you're not in as much denial as he is."

"I'm not in any kind of denial, Gaz. Alright?"

"Do you like Zim?"

"Not like that."

"But as a friend?"

"... maybe."

"Hum. That's an improvement, I guess."

"Look, I just understand a lot of what he's going through. He needs some time to work it out on his own. Then he'll either leave, or …."

"Or what?"

"I don't know. But I was trying to tell Squee about the job I got him."

"Continue." She shrugged.

"Thank you."

"Job?" Todd frowned. He already had a job, and though he'd started working a couple nights a week again, he still wasn't sure he wanted it. And he didn't need it anymore.

"Yeah. So, I told Rob that you have the creepiest brain around, and he wants you to decorate his shop."

"Oh. That … sounds like a lot of work."

"Yeah, but you'll have a team to help, myself included. And I haven't gotten to the good part yet! He's gonna pay us twice as much as our regular hours, the shop will be closed for almost a week before Halloween so we can set up a real display and we're both off on the thirty-first! So is Vay because she's on the team, and the full-timers are gonna be the ones dealing with all the little kids that come for tricker-treating."

"Wow. That does sound pretty good." He smiled a real smile. "Thanks, man."

"You're welcome, Squee. That's what friends are for, you know?"

"Favors and shortcuts?" Todd laughed.

Dib nodded, running one hand nervously through his hair. "Partly. And, you know, paying those favors back."

"Oh, no."

Gaz spared him as fleeting look of sympathy. "Oh, yeah."

"What is it?"

"Well, I got you off on Halloween, right?"

"... yeah."

"So you're not busy then because you thought you had to work."

"Yeah. Somehow, I don't think you're going to ask me to go tricker-treating."

"Do you want to?" Gaz asked. "I'm going."

"Gaz, don't you think you're a little old for that?" Dib shook his head sadly at his sister's trivial pursuits. "That's such a waste of the thinning of the veil. Besides, I was about to ask him something else."

"You're never too old for free candy," she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

"Anyway, Squee, I'm putting together a ghost-hunting team for the big night, and I need at least three people. So far it's just me and Vay."

"Yeah, and he had to put it to her the same way. It's so sad." Gaz shook her own head.

"Whatever, she wanted to come. She's a Junior Eyeball too, ya know."

"Aren't you not supposed to talk about that?"

"Oh. Oh, yeah."

"Oh, look, Squee's ride's here." She gestured to the gold car pulling into the turn.

"So, Squee, you in? It shouldn't take all night, and if you stay at my house you can probably catch Gaz and the others when they come back for a gaming party, right Gaz?"

"Yeah. But the games are all gonna be horror themed, so you better get over being a squeamish loser."

"Right. Well, I guess that doesn't sound too bad. I'll have to ask Brian ..."

"Great! Oh, but you should probably leave out the ghost hunting."

"Yeah, great. I'll call you when I find out." He dashed over when Letta pulled up to the curve, opened the passenger side door and let himself fall in like the car was a pool on a hot Summer day, even though he knew he would only get a break for a few hours before Letta's grandparents and her new girlfriend were at Brian's house for dinner. Social obligations; why did they have to be so stressful? Isolation, he guessed, was the answer. He had gotten used to spending most of his time alone or with only a few people, and now bigger groups seemed to make him a little irrationally nervous. That, and he as just a freak.

---------------Scene Shift---------------

Todd pulled the rainbow comforter from Letta's bed, then the pink sheets and stuffed them into the laundry basket on the floor with the bedding from the guest room before grabbing a pillow and turning it to one side so that it fell out of its case. They had already gotten all the groceries requested for the weekend, as well as cleaned the guest room where his mom had been staying because Brian's parents would be sleeping there during their stay. There was only about an hour left until Brain returned with them from the airport with Leon in tow. Letta had dropped him off at Brian's office before picking Todd up from skool because he had still been upset from the fight … or whatever it had been.

It had taken some prying on his part, but after the shopping, she had told Todd, once they were firmly locked in her car with the tinted windows rolled up, what she had briefly glimpsed on the playground, and it had sent shivers down his spine. Of course, Letta still didn't know about Shmee, and she wasn't sure if what she'd seen had really happened, but Todd knew. He also knew that Shmee hadn't been able to do anything like that, anything that manipulated the material environment, when he had been attached to him and the bear. So, his attachment to Leon was definitely different than it had been with him. He would have to talk to Leon about it alone … and hope that Shmee didn't see him as a threat now as well.

As he moved on to the next pillow, he watched Letta as she went around the room selecting objects to pack into a plastic box-like container, as well as organizing some of his own stuff. He smiled. "Trying to impress someone?"

"Oh." She paused for a second. "Jordan's just … a lot neater than me."

"And me? Sorry about that. I could take some of these books down to the study." His closed lips creased slightly to one side as he contemplated spending the night in the downstairs study. That was where Leon had been sleeping ever since Zim, in the guise of his mother, had taken the guest room, so tonight they would be sharing it. It was a great chance for awkward and otherwise horrible things to happen.

"No. That's alright." She smiled back nervously. "She's smarter than me too."

"Heh, but that's to be expected, isn't it?" He shrugged, then laughed when she picked up the naked pillow to hit him in the head.

"I'm not stupid, Squee; I'm just shallow."

"You mean there's a difference?" This time he ducked and the pillow missed. "I'm kidding, Letta. Besides, she already likes you or she wouldn't be meeting your family, right?"

"Yeah. That's true." After taking a long look at the pillow in her hands, she dropped it back onto the bare mattress to go back to her collecting. "It's just, we haven't really been dating seriously all that long, you know? Only about a month. And I didn't mean to invite her over at the same time as Gran and Gramps. Do you think it's too soon?"

As he tucked new, white sheets under the mattress edge, he grunted at laugh. "You think I know? All of my romantic type knowledge is theoretical. You should just be happy Zim's not here to meet her."

"Oh, God, Zim. I would make something up and cancel. How's that little green bastard doing anyway?"

"I dunno. He's depressed, I think. Dib won't tell me the whole story, but he's been pretty quiet at skool and moopy too."

"You think it's something between them?"

"And, we're right back to my theoretical knowledge. I have no idea. I barely even have ideas when it comes to my own life."

She rested the container on a hip to smirk at him. "Is there something you wanna talk about?"

Sighing down at the just-made bed with a flowery, wrinkle-free comforter, he turned around to sit on it before finally pushing a reluctant 'yes' passed his lips.

"Well?"

"How do you know when someone likes you?"

"Todd, are you serious?" She set the container on the floor to take a seat next to him on the bed. "That's really elementary stuff there."

"Yeah. Well, I know most of the theories about why and how people fall in love, and the 'true love' myth crap. I've had crushes, but I've had no actual experience … until recently, I guess."

"Recently?" One of her eyebrows arched up as she pulled her legs up onto the bed and crossed them in an Indian-style position.

Todd shook his head, hoping to avert her before she settled into long discussion mode. "I don't really want to go into details, but I'm not having sex, okay?"

"Okay. But if you were, you'd need condoms and dental damn and probably-"

"I know, I know." He shrugged reluctantly. "Well, you know, in theory."

She nodded. "So, you have a question in there somewhere."

"Yeah. What if someone likes you, or it seems like they do, and they flirt with you and kiss you a lot, but then they just stop."

"Uh, that maybe you have bad breath?"

"Haha. I have a toothbrush in my looker at skool for after lunch …."

"Aside from that being freakish and potentially obsessive-compulsive, I'd really need to know more. Did you act all shy and never kiss them back?"

"Why would I do that?" He looked down briefly. "Okay, I did do that at first. But I-"

"I know. You're skittish, and afraid and paranoid about all kinds of things, but those aren't good dating skills. You can't exactly expect people to make exceptions because of your past in this area."

"Yeah, but I've been trying to be more assertive and make moves and stuff, and he responds, but-"

"Wait, _he_?"

"Uh … yeah." Shit. He hadn't meant to let an actual pronoun slip out, but now that it was done, he might as well go all the way. "Pepito."

"Sweet Holy Mother of Fuck. He's been kissing you?"

"Uh, yeah. Well, I did kiss him back …."

"Motherfucker."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"No. I can tell it's something. What is it, really?"

"I just … sorta told him not to."

"Why?"

"Because I thought you were straight! And you're just enough of a pushover that you might let him even if you didn't want it. Why didn't you tell me you were gay?" She laughed. "It's not like I'd judge you."

"Because I'm not?" He creased his brows, then shook his head, well aware that it was, in fact, a lot like she would judge him. "You know I'm not. And I'm not that much of a push-over. I do know how to say 'stop'. 'Go' is more where my problem lies."

"Come on, Squee, you have to be. If you like guys, you're gay."

"Noo. I don't have to be anything. Not all guys who like guys are exclusively gay. And I don't really like guys … just Pepito. Other than him, I've only ever liked girls … I still like girls."

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure. Although it's not like I go around checking out every person I see to test it. That'd be kind of gross."

"Right. I think you're just young and confused. Once you get used to judging people sexually, you'll probably figure out who you like."

"Yeah. Okay. I am young … and kind of confused. But I don't think I need to get comfortable with mentally reducing people to their bodies and potential sex acts. That's not sexual attraction; it's just objectification. Attraction is about the whole person … and desire for reciprocated feelings that can be expressed through actions."

"Yeah. You read too much philosophy." She shrugged. "But alright, look. You've liked girls for a long time, right? I know you've liked Gaz for a few years."

He cringed at her last sentence. "Uh, yeah. But don't-"

"I won't tell her. I know how important it is to you to never take any risks."

"That's not just a risk. There's no point in telling someone if they can't like you back. Plus, she'd-"

"Yeah, yeah. So, you just started feeling this way after you found out that Pepito likes you?"

"...yeah. I guess. I mean before then, it had just never really occurred to me as a possibility. Sometimes it seemed like he might be flirting with me over the phone, but it was pretty subtle, and I thought he was probably just being silly."

"Well, maybe you don't really like him. Maybe you're just pressuring yourself into doing something that you think will make your friend happy."

"I don't think so. I told you, I'm not that much of a push-over. Talking myself into thinking I like it? That's even worse than before." He rested his head in his hand as though the topic was too heavy for his brain. "For the last couple weeks, it's been, well, like our friendship isn't even as close as it was before. And I know it's stupid, but sometimes I feel like he's brushing me off just because I'm not getting special attention … I've never been that spoiled for attention before. So, then I feel hurt and jealous, and stupid for feeling that way to begin with."

Letta paused for a moment to chew on the inside of her gum. "You're not going to like this, but remember my friend Troy? He liked me all through high skool even though he knew I would never like him like that too. And then when he finally got a girlfriend last year, I was really jealous. But I didn't like him. I was just really used to being the center of his attention. I didn't want him, but I didn't want him to want anyone else either."

"That's … actually pretty horrible, Letta."

"I know, but it's how I felt. I had to make myself get over it because I was being a selfish bitch."

"Are you saying that's what I am?" He frowned.

"Every time he gets too close to someone else, you pay more attention to him, right? And then when he's interested again, you pull back?"

"I … maybe, "he reached up to scratch the back of his neck as images from today and the previous week ran through his mind, " ... yes."

"And you like flirting with him as long as you know it can't or won't go anywhere?"

"... yes."

"Then, yeah. Sorry, Squee, but you're a selfish bitch. And in a way that's just as bad as those assholes that can't just be your friend if they like you and you don't like them back. If you want to keep him as a friend, you're gonna have to let him get over you."

"But the thought of … going anywhere like that with anyone kind of scares me. I think I'd feel that way with anyone I liked right now."

She nodded. "That's probably just the young and inexperienced thing again. I guess just the uncertainty could make you act like a selfish bitch anyway. But I'm not sure there's anything for that but time and experience, ya know? I haven't really been that confused since I was twelve."

"I don't … think I'm as far behind as a twelve year old. I'm still pretty sure that I like him. I like being around him. It's like everything's just a little bit more exciting and interesting. And I liked the kissing." He paused for a second to gather his thoughts so he could present them in a nice speech bundle. "I kind of have this thing … it's really unlikely for me to let myself have those kinds of feelings for someone if I don't think there's a possibility of them liking me back, so I don't end up setting myself up for rejection, I guess. Your dad would probably say it's related to the abandonment issues with my parents. So it makes sense that I wouldn't really start noticing him that way right off."

She frowned. "So, at some point you thought Gaz might like you back?"

"No. Gaz is a freak occurrence. I guess she slipped through the cracks … or I let myself like her because I knew I'd never, ever have the courage to tell her about it since she'd destroy me, so it was safe." He frowned too at his own reminder that Gaz and Pepito were both sort of scary. He hoped that it wasn't true, but there was deep suspicion in his mind that the scariness might be somehow related to his liking them: maybe it was just that fear caused physical arousal that could be interpreted in different ways depending on social circumstances, or maybe it was that he unconsciously associated scariness with the kind of resilience that could stand up to his nightmares, making it a indicator that a person might stick around in his life.

"That's really sad … and messed up. You might want to talk about that in therapy."

"Maybe." He shrugged it away. "But anyway, the problem isn't really whether I like Pepito; it's more if he likes me. He kind of flirts with a lot of people, and I can't always tell what he means by it. Before I felt like we were moving way too fast, and he said he'd back off, which is good. But now I have to make all the moves, which I'm not very good at."

"Humm. He's bisexual, right?"

"Pansexual, I think, but sure, yeah."

"Psh. Pansexual is just PC speak for bisexual."

"No, it's-"

"Anyway, you might want to think about focusing on someone with a more solid orientation. There are only really three types of 'bisexuals': people that know they're gay, but are afraid to come out all the way, people who are really just confused like you and people that are just greedy and don't care about other people's feelings." She slapped another finger into her palm with each point. "Those bisexual girls that just do stuff to show off for guys are a subtype of the last category."

Todd let out a prolonged sigh. "See, this is exactly why I didn't tell you before. You always have to fit everything into an exclusive little category that supports what you want to be true no matter what the reality is. And you want it to be true for a really stupid reason too, just like how you always used to say Agnostics are just Atheists without balls."

"Todd, I'm just looking out for you. You've already said that he flirts with everyone, and, trust me, you don't want your first time to end like that." She smirked. "And Agnostics are a lot like bisexuals: going through a confused phase or just afraid to admit that religion is bullshit, even though deep down they know it. You can't just live in a perpetual state of indecision."

"God, Letta. Neither one is indecision, alright? Not everyone feels and thinks just like you, and it's just as hard for some of them to see things from your point of view. Not all Atheists even reject religion, some just reject the God part. Most Agnostics aren't just unsure; they think it's impossible to know if there's a God or not, so Atheism is just as wrong as Theism for a lot of them. And sexuality is like a finger print. If you wanted to try to measure it, you'd need a whole lot of intersecting scales, and very few people would fall into the same places on all of them. And that's not even taking into account that people change over time."

"Sexuality does not change over time, thank you. I didn't just wake up one morning and decide to be a lesbian. It's not a choice."

"I never said anything about it being a choice or something you can control. Just because something develops over time with experience or has a big social element does make it a choice at all … though I don't see how that has anything to do with morality or validation. According to one of your dad's books, pedophilia and homosexuality both have about a fifty percent biological component, but no one sane thinks that makes pedophilia okay."

"Are you off your meds again?"

" … no." He made sure to look her in the eyes so she wouldn't know that he was lying. Well, technically, he had never restarted the pills, so the 'again' part was true.

"Then you better get your shit together instead of insulting me right now. Just because you're afraid you might be gay doesn't mean you get to be a dick."

"Ugh! I'm not afraid of being gay; I'm just not. If I was afraid, I wouldn't be talking to you about how I want to go out with a guy right now. And I'm not insulting you; you're just stupid." He cringed. "Okay. Now I'm insulting you, I guess. Sorry. But I'm not comparing the morality of being gay to being a pedophile. I'm saying the morality has nothing to do with choice and everything to do with harm, or in the case of being gay, lack of harm. Even if pedophilia was completely, one-hundred percent innate, it would still be wrong, and even if being gay was completely a matter of choice, it would still not be wrong."

"Oh. I guess that's alright then. Except the part about me being stupid. I want an apology for that."

He let out another deep breath, not mentioning that he had already apologized because apparently a last minute concession in the middle of an argument didn't count. "I'm sorry. You're not stupid, but you need to learn some pattern recognition because it should be pretty obvious I'm not a bigot by now." Even if she kind of was. Still, as much as Todd hated her sometimes illogical prejudices, he also hated confrontation, especially the kind that reared up to inject its venom right before a big family dinner.

With narrowed eyes, she stared at him for a few seconds. "Fine. I'm sorry too." A few minutes passed in silence as they both continued to sit there on the bed. "So, what were we talking about?"

"Nothing." Todd stood up and grabbed the laundry basket.

"Wait, Squee, really." She stood up too. "I'm sorry for being so uptight, okay? Maybe you really are bisexual; maybe Pepito is too, but that still doesn't mean he's good for you."

"Yeah. I know. And thanks, but we don't have much time left." He nodded toward the digital clock on her nightstand, which read fifteen till six.

Her eyes widened, and she made a mad dash for the plastic container on the floor. "Shit! Okay, fifteen minutes. Thirty, tops. Go stick that in the dryer."

"Right." He gave the basket an unnecessary lift for emphasize as he turned to go.

---------------Scene Shift---------------

Zim glared out at the wrenched human city from the roof of the apartment building that he was renting a shabby studio at, surveying the filthy poverty that plagued this area. From one side, there was a sea of tall buildings, crisscrossed with dirty canal-like streets; from the other, a wasteland of subdivisions with modest dwelling units ranging from run-down to just falling down. If his pak served him, the Squeeky kid didn't live too far from the run-down area. He didn't think that the "log-cabin" dwellings the Letta-human had mentioned could be much worse than that! Or this place where he was currently abiding either.

He let out a deep sigh that was really more of a hiss, his long thin tongue wiggling in the breeze so high up that he knew none of the pig-smellies below would notice. It was pathetic, this place, this 'third street'. The exact name of the dwelling complex was the 'Sweaty Pit' for Irk's sake! Still, he felt oddly drawn to it, and not just because it was one of the only establishments that would let him pay in cash and without proof of ID or parents. Sometimes he thought that it looked like he felt on the inside with its broken windows and mismatched, peeling paint. Three whole floors of one of its two "wings" were unoccupied because of a large hole in the face of the structure itself that let in all of the Earth elements to degrade what they could. But after such thoughts he wanted to give himself a pumbling because Zim was no mooping emo mall-rat thing! He would not be confined to underground parking!

A frown tugged his lips down. He had spent too much time on this spinning ball of dirt; so much that he was becoming acculturated. It made him want to scream, to tear at his lekku, but what could he do now? He was dead to the Empire and a prime target for the Tallest if he dared show his amazing face in Irken territory again. Or so they thought. He smirked. Since he had removed his ID code, he could pass among them without setting off any alarms, as long as he didn't do anything that required a data scan. And he was no longer compelled to blindly obey without the personality temperance. If they had feared him before, then now-now … now he didn't know.

The truth was that he really hadn't known what he wanted for quiet some time. He had lived the last few years of his life on Earth in a sort of limbo, trapped between fearful denial and ambition, all the while unconsciously growing a festering sickness in his squiggly-spooch that manifested itself as some kind of feeling for the horrible creatures on this planet- more than he had for his own race, at least. And more than they had ever had for him, although he still didn't understand it.

It seemed to be related to the churning somehow. He knew the Dib was the the primary source of said churning because the feelings always grew around him, but the unfathomable part was that it was even worse when he left the Earth. Then the churning felt cold instead of hot, and it was a churning of emptiness swirling around within him. If he stayed out long enough, it would start to make him paranoid sometimes that it would form an actual vortex and consume him like his Infinite Energy Absorbing Blob had Tallests Miyuki and Spork back when he had been a Science Officer.

It was horrifying, and it didn't even have the decency to end there. No, he had started feeling the empty churning at other times as well, like when he had given the Squeak to Bitters and when the Gaz-beast had stolen his last remaining minion. Where once there would have only been a fluttery tickle, now there was this horrible huyman thing!

He glanced around, quickly seizing a broken chunk of gravel from the ledge of the building's roof to toss it down at the humans below. It was a gesture of Elite will, a retribution for the sickness of this place, that like its germs, wouldn't stop coming for any living thing until it was covered, inside and out.

"And once inside, it multiples," Zim muttered darkly to himself as he watched the gravel miss a man leaving the building by inches, forcing out a short burst of laughter when the shock made said man lose his grip on the flaps of his tan trench coat, which let a long column of horrible neck-meats roll down his chest in the open air. A shifting of ply wood and ruble on the concert flat of the roof made Zim drop a second piece before turning on his heel to see Torque Smacky approaching him, not from the flat doors that exited the stairs, but from the other direction. "You, Smacky! How long have you been there?"

Torque shrugged as he walked closer. "Long enough to watch you brood and commit reckless endangerment."

"How dare you stalk Zim!"

"Yeah, I guess that job's reserved for Dib, huh?"

"Yes! I mean no! I mean, the Dib is merely insane."

"Oh yeah? Then why're you going out with him?"

"Because! Because we … we share a revoltingly mutual infection of affectional germs."

"That's not … code for an STD, is it?" He cringed. "I heard you say something earlier about something multiplying … inside?"

"Eh? ST-No, worm-baby, it's not … I don't think … no. The Dib and I have not exchanged-" He halted his speech to change tangents and make a shooing motion with his hands. "Enough! Be gone with you. Back to your dwelling unit!"

Raising both hands in a gesture of defeat, Torque stepped back a few feet, but didn't turn to go. "Sorry, Zim. You don't have to get all defensive. It's just, what you said- you're really weird, you know? I mean, really weird. Like almost enough that I can see why Dib's always saying you're an alien."

"Zim said run along, pig-smell! Have you the brain worms?" Zim went up on his tip-toes to get more height with the exclamation. "Zim wishes to be alone!"

"No brain worms. Just some minor head trauma from Homecoming last year. And this is just as much my roof as yours. This has been my thinking spot since fourth grade."

"Fine. Zim will find his own spot, and it will be the most magnificent, most superior spot there is on this lowly slab of re-mixed rock!" He turned to go.

"Wait! Zim," Torque walked the few yards that Zim had put between them, "I wanted to talk to you."

Turning stiffly, Zim did his best to glower up at the six foot one pig-skin ball player. "Zim will not go out, or in … especially in, with you."

Torque's felt his eyes widen. "No! I don't want … I don't date guys."

"Neither does Chunk, according to him."

"Oh. Well, Chunk's just as asshole."

"And you're not?"

"I don't think I am." Turning his head away, Torque looked out at the darkening city sky, to the few stars that he could make out through the smog and electric lights. Of course, they never had any answers; they were too obscured and too far away, like his life from just a few months ago. "All that stuff with the football team, I didn't know about it. At that party or before. Maki and some of the others didn't either. Guess they figured we would tell." He sighed when Zim just stared. "Chunk's probably gonna get off light for testifying against the others since he 'just watched' or whatever."

Zim's eyes narrowed. "Why are you telling this to Zim?"

"I don't know, man. Dib's scary sister was dating him, then. You might be able to get her to testify instead so they don't need him maybe, if she saw anything. And you could appear as a character witness against him, since, you know, he's probably done more than watch before."

"That shows what little you know, human. The Gaz-beast is not the type to inconvenience herself for anyone but herself, so unless ..." Unless maybe he stole her gaming device and placed the blame on Chunk-but he didn't want that. He wanted to hurl Chunk into the sun. If only the Dib would let him use more of his technologies.

"Well, I'm just saying it's worth a try maybe." Torque shrugged.

"Perhaps." Moments passed, and Zim became increasingly annoyed that the human was still standing there. He finally let out a long sigh and turned to find another spot, as was his original plan.

"Zim?"

He stopped in his tracks, his body stiff from irritation, and turned on his hill to face Torque again. "Oh, what is it now?"

"You're not used to this, right?"

"What is 'this'?"

"This," Torque raised his arms to indicate the building and its surroundings, "this … poverty, right?"

"Not quite, no, but since my parental units were destroyed in the attack on my home, I have no where else to go until I can … find my other relatives … in my country of origin. Why do you ask?"

"It's nothing personal, but aside from being weird, you've always come off as a stuck-up elitist that never gave anyone else the time of day."

"Yesss." Zim's eyes narrowed once again. "You know, pig-smelly, you have a very strange way of acknowledging Zim's superiority."

"Right. Sorry. The point is that my girlfriend-you know Jessica, right? Well, she's a lot like you in that way."

Zim grit his teeth together at the ridiculous words. Jessica, a mere human, as superior as Zim? There was no way!

"Her parents have a lot more money than mine, obviously, but they're not so rich that we could just glide along. I'm pretty sure she was only into me because I'm so good at football, at least at first."

"The point, Smacky, give it to Zim already!" He stamped his foot on the roof to back up the tone of his words.

"Alright." Torque looked down for a few long seconds. "She's pregnant. She's not showing yet, but she's a few months along, and I don't know what we're going to do-what she's going to do. If I don't keep playing and going to skool, I'm not going to get a scholarship. Our relationship is already kind of on the fritz because somehow people at skool found out, and Jess thinks I told them. If I don't get a scholarship, I'll be just another loser and she'll dump me for sure. But if she has it, I'm gonna have to get a full time job that won't leave time for skool and football. If she doesn't now everyone will know, and either way, she's not gonna be so cool anymore. She's not doing well with that either."

"You two produced a human larva with your filthy juices? And now it lives inside her body like a parasite, growing day by hideous day and stealing her vital nutrients?" Taking a step back, Zim clutched his own arms with hands as if it would protect him from such horrors. The memory of living in the female human body with that grotesque capability was still so fresh on his mind. "Disgusting!"

"Could we skip the girls are icky part?" Torque rolled his eyes. "I need to know how to get her to forgive me and stop freaking the fuck out about what people think."

"And you're asking Zim? Why!"

Torque frowned. Zim's emphasis on the word 'why' had sounded more like he was bemoaning how unfair it was that such horrible things as this always happened to him instead of responding to the question. He guessed that was good, though. It meant he'd come to the right person. "I told you already. Her attitude prob-ahem. Her attitude is a lot like yours, and now she's feeling pretty low … also like you. So, I figured you might have some ideas on how to make it better."

The three fingers on each of Zim's hands dug into his arms through the sleeves of his crimson shirt, though otherwise his posture remained rigid. What was with these people and their personal, emotional questionings about individual weaknesses! And this-this was even worse than what he'd had to endure with the Brian-human because at least then he'd just been acting as the Squeak's parental unit. But Torque was talking to the real Zim, about his real life, even if he didn't know the full extent of his downfall.

"So, do you have any? Ideas?"

"Stupid huyman. Don't you think if I knew how to make myself happy, I would?"

"Well, I guess." Torque looked down at his foot as he traced a path absently in the rubble. "Sorry. I'm just gonna go back inside then."

"She has to let them go."

"What?"

"Those stupid judgy people that she worries about. They don't matter. They could never really give her anything she wants anyway … nothing real … just cold, unfeeling programming. It's the only reason they're good at what they do, and if you're not, you're not welcome there, but it's not … it's not bad … to be different. When the programming fails, you just … you have to find what you really want, and then-then you just do it! And you don't need their acceptance anymore because you have your own, and you don't worry about the drones anymore." Zim found himself nodding along with his own impassioned words, in agreement, but still somehow shocked by it all. It was like emotional vomit: sickening and true and freeing and it wouldn't stop even when he wished it would. "And if you're really lucky, you might find other people, real people, that are just as broken and amazing as you, and for the first time someone really sees you, and you see you, and you know why you've always been so lonely with the drones. And you're glad! Glad that you're broken!"

Torque just stood there, staring as Zim's frame grew looser and he pumped a fist into the air near the end. Afterward, there was a strange feeling, like the air was charged with emotional electric waves that might strike him if he moved wrong, and he wasn't sure if he didn't want that. "Wow, Zim. That was pretty deep. I don't know if I can make it sound as good as you just did, but I'll give it a try. Thanks."

"Eh?" Zim raised a brow ridge. He had almost forgotten that Torque was there, much less that he had been giving him mating advice. "Oh. Yes. You're quite welcome, stink-beast."

"Right. Well, I'm gonna go write that down before I forget."

As he walked back toward the stair well, Zim fought the urge to make a comment about how very pathetic he was with his forgetting of such sheer brilliance. He managed to keep it to himself, but at the last moment, he called out all the same. "Smacky!"

"Uh, yeah?"

He beckoned him back over with a curved finger. "Zim demands payment for his glorious and invaluable advice!"

"Payment? Seriously?"

"Yes. I have some … relationship questions of my own." As he watched Torque cross his arms and nod his head, Zim felt his spooch jiggle with a nervousness that made him fell slightly sick, but he wasn't going to turn back. Somehow, he felt taller now, not because of the inches he had added to his clone-body, but because of a new-found security that seemed to come from within. He had never known that he could grow like this on the inside.

---------------Scene Shift---------------

Forty minutes later Todd found himself at the kitchen table pealing sweet potatoes for the fast-approaching dinner. The odd thing about this was that the potatoes had already been boiled until tender … and you peeled them after. To his right Jordan, a kollege girl a year ahead of Letta with a slight frame and chin-length, curly brown hair, was taking a knife to a squash, and putting the resulting rough, uneven cuts in a plate along with the green tomato slices that Letta was adding from one seat over.

On his other side, Leon was flipping slowly through a National Geographic. Earlier he had helped pull the husks off of the corn, but he'd gotten slightly more irritable when he couldn't help with anything that required heat or a knife, claiming that his grandpa had let him help at the restaurant 'lots'. Of course, Leon had been irritable ever since he'd gotten home, and Todd assumed, since the 'fight' at the center. He was really not looking forward to that talk.

Walking into the kitchen from the living room where his parents had been showing him their latest vacation photos, Brian gave the kids a tight-lipped grin before checking the cornbread in the oven and then the pinto beans in the crock pot. "Just about."

"Hey, Dad?" Letta waited until he turned around to continue, "Why are we cooking all this southern stuff for them when they had it all the time in Tennessee? They've only had the beach house in Florida for two years, and they still spend half their time at the old house. Plus, it can't be that hard to get it in Florida. Wouldn't you think they'd want something ... different when they visit other places?" She gave the under-ripe tomatoes a long look.

"Honey, don't make a fuss. You know the other dinners for this weekend aren't southern. Besides, there's nothing wrong with a little taste of your heritage every now and then."

"It's only half my heritage. Mom was from Boston." She stuck her tongue out at him when he sighed. "Besides, you know you moved away for a reason. The last time we were there-"

"Letta, I said I don't want that story repeated. And I didn't move away. I went to college in Cali and just … never moved back. Alright? Now behave unless you want to watch a slide show about the bathroom lines at the Grand Canyon."

"Yeah. Sorry."

He nodded as he turned to leave. "I'll be back to fry those, and check up on y'all, in a bit."

Todd let out a small huff of a laugh at the added southern twinge to Brian's accent. It was still just as weird as the first time he had heard it years ago. What made it funny was that usually it wasn't very strong at all, but when he was around his relatives, or even talked to them on the phone, it picked up very noticeably. His grammar didn't change drastically and he didn't shorten as many words as his parents, but there was definitely a longer drawl.

When he was gone from hearing range, Letta gave the others a sideways look. "The last time we were in Tennessee, Dad got into a fist fight with a Southern Baptist, and we had to leave the state before he was arrested … or chased down by a mob with pitchforks or whatever. They might still have a warrant out."

"Your dad is wanted?" Todd snorted another laugh. It was hard to imagine."For what? Assault?"

"Yep. He threw the first punch. It was so great." She smiled, then frowned when she looked at Jordan's face: her brown eyes were a little wider than normal and her jaw was set. "Not that he's the violent type … that's kind of why it was great. Yeah." She looked back down at the tomato and started to cut again.

"I understand." One of Jordan's hands landed lightly on her knee under the table. "Just as long as you never take me there." She smiled.

Letta smiled back at her. "You know I can't promise that. I might have to play a gig in Nashville some day … or attend my dad's court hearing. Anyway, the 'cities' aren't that bad. My grandparents just live out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by backward crazies, cows and emus."

"Emus?" Todd asked. "Aren't they from Australia?"

"Yeah, but people have them imported, I guess. The owners kept them in pastures like cows. Those things are scary too. They'll chase you down if you get behind the fence."

"Why would you go behind the fence?" Jordan took her hand back, making an attempt at cutting one last slice off of the asymmetrical vegetable, but half way through the end piece twisted to the side under the pressure and broke free to roll off the table. "Oops."

"I didn't go behind the fence; my cousins did. I guess they think stuff like that's fun because there's nowhere at all to go out there." Letta snickered. "You can throw the whole thing down there if you want. I won't tell."

"Yeah. Somehow I still don't think that would leave a great first impression, even if they bought it. Clumsiness is only really enduring in fiction, and only then when it's alluded to, but never actually depicted except when it's convenient."

"But you're admitting you'd like to, right?"

She shook her head as she scooted her chair back so she could crawl under the table to retrieve the wayward piece. "Actually, I'm always looking out for new veggie recipes."

Letta gave Todd a flat look as she finished cutting the last of the tomato. "What do you think is more important: taste in women or taste in food? If you had to pick one."

"Umm, they're both pretty important." He shrugged. "But since you don't really have the second, you should probably just focus on the first. Anyone who likes regular mystery-meat styled hot dogs is pretty hopeless."

"Letta, I heard that, you know," Jordan spoke loudly to be heard through the table top.

"You were meant to." Letta snatched up the remaining end of the squash to toss it under as well without bothering to look where it landed. "It was a deliberate slip. I'm just kind of socially smooth like that."

"Hey, watch it!" Jordan protested when the end smacked her in the side of the head. "You're smooth like sand paper."

"Is that some kind of lame dyke joke?"

"No ..."

"Then you must think sand paper's pretty sexy, huh?"

"Haha. You know it, babe. It scratches all the right spots."

"Good. Then maybe-" Letta stopped to change tangents abruptly when her grandfather walked in, "hi, Gramps!"

"Hey there, Onion-head. Them beans done yet?"

"Just about." She gave him a smile, then shrugged at Todd when her gramp's back was turned to check. "I, uh, used to think he was calling me 'onion' instead of 'youngin' when I was a kid."

"Yeah. That poor girl caint hear for the life of her." He chuckled at the memory as he put the lid on the beans back down on the cooker. "These look real good. Woulda been better with bacon, though."

"Yeah, but Jordan's Jewish."

He nodded. "Your daddy said. He also said we're havin some kind of nondenominational prayer." The wrinkles around his eyes ceased a little. "But you youngins know ta thank of Jesus anyway, right? That's who we're really prayin to. He's the only one that can get ya inta Heaven."

Letta smiled a huge, sarcastic smile that her gamps had always seemed too naive to understand. Through the corner of her eye, she could see Todd looking down intently at the sweet potatoes until the highlighter Leon was using on the magazine ran off the edge and onto the table cloth, and he reached out to snatch it away. She dropped the smile for a grimace as soon as he left.

There was a dull thump when Jordan hit her head on the table as she backed out from under it, and she dropped back down into her chair with a hand on the side of her head. She dropped the pieces of swash onto the table with an awkward laugh. "I guess he didn't know I was there."

"Guess not. Sorry." Letta grabbed the squash pieces, and took them to the trash can under the sink, then washed her hands. She opened the oven to check the corn bread, turning it off after seeing that it was starting to brown on top. Then she leaned against the counter, and actually thought about trying her hand at frying the tomatoes and squash. It would surely end horribly, but it would keep her busy until dinner … and possibly get her out of eating them.

"Letta, relax. It's no biggie. I wasn't expecting your family to be perfect; no one's is. You know my dad's always working. He hardly ever has any time off, and when he does Membrane usually calls him in." She laughed. "A few years ago my mom nearly left him because she thought they were having an affair."

"Your dad works for Professor Membrane?" Todd raised a brow.

"Oh, yeah. He's his personal assistant … a personal assistant with degrees in physics and chemistry. He kind of doubles for a lab assistant too, and since Membrane's a workaholic, it kind of makes him one too if he wants to keep his job."

"Oh. That's … interesting." He forced a friendly smile, though he didn't really know how to respond. He never did in situations like these with new people … because of the way the information had come up, he couldn't exactly say that it was 'nice'. "Too bad about the hours though."

"Eh," she shrugged, "I'm used to it."

He nodded. "Your name is Simmons, right?" He looked to Letta, then back to Jordan. It seemed like she had been introduced as Jordan Simmons, but he hadn't made the connection.

"Yeah."

"Oh, right. Dib and Gaz, you know, Membrane's kids, they talk about him sometimes."

"Oh. Sure. They … I've meet them a few times." Her gaze made its way down to the plate on sliced food. "How'd you meet them? Therapy?"

"Yeah. And they go to my high skool." One side of Todd's lips curved down as he watched her strange reaction. Had he said something wrong?

Taking a seat back in her chair, Letta prompted her chin on her right hand as she too watched Jordan's expression. "Hey, I'd understand if you didn't want to stay. I … I didn't really realize that my grandparent were gonna be here this weekend."

"No, no. That's fine." She shook her head with a smile. "One of my grandmothers still says the blessing in Hebrew no matter who's over. I guess I can lay back and think of Israel this once."

Letta nodded. "Then what's with the face?"

"I was born with it. Lay off." She laughed again, but no one else joined in. "Nothing."

With her free hand, Letta reached over to tilt Jordan's face toward her own when she looked away again."Something."

"Alright. Well, I didn't want to say anything. It's just that it's always hard not to feel a little sorry for those kids." She sighed when their stares didn't let up. "You know, with Dib being sort of insane, and Membrane always going on about it. And my dad said that he thought they were his roommates instead of his kids for years."

"Ah. Yeah, that is kind of sad, but they're okay. They're tough kids, right, Todd?" She removed her hand to slap Jordan lightly on the shoulder.

"Yeah. Sure. And Dib's not really as crazy as people think." Actually, if anything they were too tough, especially Gaz, but he supposed that couldn't be _all_ Membrane's fault. After all, his parents had been much worse, and there had been Johnny, but he didn't have those kind of issues.

"Well, that's good to hear." She shrugged when the conversation didn't move on. "It's not like I'm depressed about it or anything. It's just all I know about them really, and it's sort of rude to talk about their family, so I wasn't going to say anything, you know?"

"Psh. No." Letta laughed. "I totally would have said it."

Jordan laughed too. "Sand paper."

"Only if you'll be the wood. And you clean up all the saw dust after." They all laughed again, except Leon, who looked really confused, which Letta figured was probably a good thing.

"You guys are weird," he announced dramatically. "Todd, why's that funny?"

"Uh, you'll know when you're older, Lee. When you, uh, take a wood shop class."

"Oh." He frowned as he closed the magazine with an air of finality. "That blows chunks."

Brian halted in the doorway to give Leon as stern look. "What was that, Leon?"

"I said, it … blows … chunks," he punctuated each word as if Brian might miss it if he said it too fast. "Chunks of throw-up! And the curdled old milkly kind too!"

"Eww," Todd blurted with a look of unbridled disgust aimed at Leon. "That … did not need clarification."

"Where did you hear that?" Brian asked. "Skool?"

"The Adoption Center. I guess I can't go back there and get adopted now, huh?"

"No. You can still go back there, but I'll have a talk with Rosemary about getting you more supervision with the other kids, especially after what happened today. And I expect you to watch your language, alright? Just because other kids are doing something doesn't make it a good thing to do."

Leon frowned. "If I keep saying it, can I not go there?"

Brian's countenance softened as he took a step closer to the table. "Leon, those kids aren't going to brother you anymore, okay? They were just there to be interviewed for a foster home that Friday. You don't have to be scared to go back. And Mr and Mrs. Mather really want to get to know you better. You should really give them a chance."

"Okay." Leon sighed. He knew it wasn't worth arguing about them yet; not if he could still make them not like him. Shmee had told him that Brian wouldn't believe him anyway. If he told anyone about Shmee, they'd try to take him away.

"Good."

"Cornbread's done, Dad," Letta said once there was silence.

"Great. The beans should be too." He perked up as he moved about the kitchen gathering flower, spices, a bowl and a pan to fry with before setting it on an eye of the stove, turning up the heat and pouring in some vegetable oil. "Honey, could you hand me- Thanks." He took the plate of produce from Letta and sat in on the counter. "So, Jordan, how are you liking kollege? What's you area of study?"

"Oh, I'm liking it pretty well, I guess. I'm majoring in history and minoring in women's studies. It's interesting once you get passed the intro classes."

"Well, that sounds very nice. Are you parents originally from here?"

"My mom's from San Francisco and my dad's from New York, but I've lived here since I was about five."

Todd slid the National Geographic that Leon had been reading in front of himself as Brian took the sweet potatoes to mash them and add melted brown sugar, milk and cinnamon in between frying groups of five items at a time and asking Jordan safe, noninvasive questions. It was actually his magazine, after all, and Leon had moved on to crayons and a Happy Noddle Boy coloring book. He shook his head in silence as he flipped it open: it still felt strange and wrong to see Noodle Boy re-envisioned as age-appropriate for a seven year old. What was next? Were they going to hire Johnny to write a kids cartoon show for Dickelodeon?

That thought fell to the back-burner of his mind as he flipped through the magazine, his eyes repeatably catching highlighted sentences and paragraphs. The more he read, the more he saw it, the pattern: endangered animals and wetlands, wiped-out cultures and starving children in third world countries. It was all terrible human cruelty, and it appeared that Leon had found the worst parts in every article he had read. Todd knew from experience that was an easy road to depression, or one that people tended to take if they were already depressed … or possibly if someone or something was trying his best to make sure those were the most prominent in your mind.

But of course Leon was depressed. It hadn't been that long since his family had been murdered, so maybe Todd was seeing the wrong meaning this time. That was the problem really: he could never tell how much, if at all, Shmee was behind the face of that child. He turned the next page slowly with a shiver, and engrossed himself in an unhighlighted article until it was time for the meal to start.

Once the table was seat, everyone's plate was full and they had all taken a seat around the table, Letta watched nervously as her gramps eyed the food before him.

"What, no meat?" He looked to Brian.

"There's beans and cornbread, Dad, so you don't really need meat. Besides, Jordan's our guest too, and she's a vegetarian."

"I thought she was Jewish. That's what Onion-head said."

"Yeah," Jordan said, "I'm both."

"A Jewish Vegetarian, eh? How'd that happen? Ain't that double duty? After all them laws and no meat, what's left ta eat?"

"Now, Hollis, you be respectful!" His wife, Gracie, brushed his comment off with a hand. "Feel free to ignore him, Jordan. Everybody else does. He's just a stubborn old man, set so deep his is own ways that it's like he's in a couch with no springs underneath. One day long ago, he just sunk right through and hasn't been able to pull himself up since!"

She laughed lightly. "Well, I'm a Reform Jew, so it's not really about tradition so much as my own interpretation of what the old Kosher Laws were trying to get at as a principle. A lot of Jewish people see the restrictions as related to animal welfare, and more as a regrettable leniency that was allowed after the flood than actual restrictions."

"Huh?" Hollis looked around the table. "Did anybody else understand that?"

"Uh, sorry?"

"That's alright, hun, you're just gonna have to say it slower." He grunted a laugh. "You talk about how Onion listens. I guess that's a good thing, though, cause maybe you two're on the same wavelength there. Did you understand that, Onion?"

"Yeah, Gramps. It just means that she thinks that not eating things that come from animals is the best moral thing to do, like the default. And that the Old Testament laws for food are like, exceptions where the law can be bent. Kind of like seeing the glass half full instead of half empty, and seeing empty as the best thing … right?" She looked to Jordan.

"Uh, now I'm a little confused, but sure." Jordan shrugged. "That's really not the important part. I basically just think the Kosher Laws aim at treating animals humanely and with dignity as fellow creatures of God. Also, being a vegetarian actually makes it easier to be Kosher since there aren't as many conflicting combinations like dairy and meat. But I wouldn't have been offended or anything if your dad had cooked a meat item for everyone else."

"See there, Brian!" Hollis said, "She wouldn't of been offended!"

Brian smiled narrowly. "Yeah, Dad, but this is the first time she's been over, and I thought it would be a nice gesture."

"I'll tell ya what woulda been nice: some pork chops woulda been nice!"

"Hollis, be quite, you old fool!" Gracie shot him a piercing look. "You can't always have your own way, always goin' around thinkin' it's the best."

Brian sighed. "We can have pork chops tomorrow night. Right now let's just enjoy what we have, alright?"

"Of course, hon." Gracie patted his lower arm and they exchanged a quick smile. "So, who's gonna say grace? Todd, how about you, dear?"

Todd froze mid-sip at her words, nearly chocking on the sweet iced tea as some of it made its way into his wind pipe. He coughed twice before forcing out words. "Me? Why me?"

"Well, it's going to be a nondenominational prayer, and the way I understand it, you don't have a religion, right? So, that makes you the most nondenominational person at the table."

He forced himself to smile back across the table at Gracie, whose own smile was covered in bright red lip-stick that was as flamboyant as the rest of her attire. "I … guess so."

"Great!"

"Yeah, great." He frowned down at his plate of food as the others waited for him to start, though he really had no idea how. During prayers in church, he usually just sat quietly, not even faking it the way Letta did. And he couldn't use those anyway if it wasn't supposed to be a Catholic, or even Christian, prayer. Todd smirked vaguely at the thought of starting how he had as a child: 'Dear Mr. or Missus God …'. Of course, that probably wouldn't be vague enough for Leon, and it was probably a little too much for Brian's parents, but it was still what came most naturally. It was really no wonder Letta worried about him taking an interest in Wicca.

"Any time you're ready there, Todd." Hollis said, a little amused.

"Oh. Yeah, sure." Reluctantly, he reached out to hold hands with Leon and Jordan, closing his eyes after everyone else had followed suite. He took a deep breath, preparing for how awkward this was bound to be. "Dear, uh, Higher Spirit, we are gathered here …" He paused. No. This wasn't wedding. "We would like to give you thanks for this meal, and, uh, for each others company. And to ask you to please bless it and us … and … and …." He lost his line of thought as he felt a spiritual jolt, like he had been a caveman fumbling with an electrical device and someone had suddenly plugged it into a wall socket to start it up.

Todd swallowed thickly as his hands went limp in the ones that were holding them, and his fingers started to feel fuzzy. Opening his eyes, he looked around the table, but it almost felt like slow motion, like time had slowed down for him to the point that it took a concentrated effort to keep up … one that he was finding increasingly hard to put forth. Soon, Letta's eyes were open too, and she was staring at him strangely, asking him what was wrong with a silence expression, though he didn't attempt an answer. Nothing was wrong, and he felt she should know already; they all should because the barrier separating them was so flimsy.

A warm wave ran through his body, from his head to his toes and back again, making him tremble slightly, and forget everything he was and everything he knew for just a few seconds. He saw the Void again, but now it had a face that was made up of billions … and more, on and on forever. Billions of stars and billions and billions of people made of star dust, all thinking and feeling at once and most so afraid and confused for no reason. Such a waste.

Now the others were looking at him, but he still couldn't continue, and for the most part it didn't seem important, not his words or their worried looks, just this feeling, this oneness. They had to know it too, somewhere deep down and long forgotten. His grip tightened on the hands he was still holding as another electric wave ran through him. "You have to remember what was before. And after, always after too."

"What?" Brian released his mother and daughter's hands. "Todd, are you alright?"

Meeting his green eyes with his own, Todd felt the corners of his lips slide up his face to smile wider, too much wider if Brian's expression was any indication, but he couldn't help it. He wanted to say that he was perfect, and he wasn't Todd, not just Todd, but then Brian was on his feet, and the others had pulled their hands away. Somehow, that look finally punctured through the haze a bit, and he felt the worry too as Brian griped his upper arm to pull him to his feet and lead him out of the kitchen, through the hall and into the study.

Brian eased him down into a large maroon chair by the fireplace, then closed the study door behind them before kneeling down to get to eye level. "Todd? What was that?"

Todd shook his head slowly. "I don't know. It just … felt odd. Like everything was … well, everything." He laughed when Brian's brow creased. "Sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for. It's just, that seemed a lot like a psychotic break to me. What do you think?"

He bit his lip as he looked down as his folded hands on his lower chest, unable to see a good way out of this. "Maybe. But it wasn't … it didn't feel dangerous or scary really. It was just like … love, and warmth, and oneness … like a hug from the universe." He forced another laugh. "Is that still bad if it's the opposite problem from what I usually have?"

"I'm not sure." Brian looked up to the mantel, where he'd set up a small alter that had been maintained for years. A photo of his wife was center, flanked by white votive candles and two statues: Christ and the Virgin. "I'm really not sure."

Todd followed his gaze, then swallowed again more nervously. "I think I'm alright now."

Brian nodded in an attempt to feel more sure. "Do you wanna come back out to dinner?"

"Nah. I think … maybe I should just hang out here for a while. Calm down some. Tell everyone I'm sorry?"

"Okay. But I'm leaving the door open, and I expect you to call if you need anything."

"Okay. Thanks, Brian."

"Sure, kiddo."

Todd looked back down as Brian patted his head and started for the door. "Brian?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I might have forgotten to take my pill today."

"You don't remember?"

"Well, I thought I had, but now I think that I was confusing this morning for yesterday maybe."

"Okay. Second story bathroom, right?"

"Yeah."

"Be right back."

When he left, Todd brought his legs up into the chair to rest against his chest. That position usually made him feel more secure, and now he really needed that. He hadn't lied really. The experience hadn't been scary at the time, but now that it was over he wasn't sure anymore. It had been paralyzingly and those words had hardly even been his own, and that lack of control … well, it should have been scary. What was worse was that he was pretty sure that it wasn't due to his lack of medication, though that would hopefully appease Brian for now. Ever since his time in Zim's simulator, the Void had been coming back, intruding on his reality in small bursts, at what he liked to think were random times.

He looked back over his shoulder at the alter, at the dead woman whose eyes were much more alive than the shiny black of the statues. What if it wasn't random? What if it only seemed random before you were a part of it, like the Void itself? Another shiver ran down his spine. It had happened during a prayer, the first one he had made in years. Still, it could be a coincidence. The other times hadn't been particularly religious in context. There had been the time with Pepito, once in class, and the time with the clerk at the book store. There had been something about her eyes, and he had ended up holding her hand instead of paying her the money he owed … which was kind of a disturbing trend.

Brian knocked on the frame of the door before coming back in with prescription medication bottle in one hand and Todd's iced tea in the other. Letta was behind him with a plate. "Hey. You still with us?"

"Yeah." Todd shot him a smile as he popped the top of the orange bottle and shook out a single green pill to take with the tea. "Thanks again."

"Sure. That's what I'm here for. Or what you're here for." Brian took the bottle back to place it high up on a book shelf so Leon couldn't reach before stepping aside. "Try to get some food down, and I'll be back after dinner, alright?"

"Alright." Todd sighed as he left, and Letta set his full plate down on the end table beside the chair he was in. He looked up at her pitifully.

"Are you really okay?"

"Yeah. Now."

She plopped down across from him on the extra cot that they had set up earlier. "What happened?" She frowned when he only gave her a pensive look. "Did you see the rotting face of Zombie Jesus?"

"No." His grip tightened on the cold glass he was holding as he fought the urge to throw the drink in her face. "Could you please stop bringing that up?"

"Jeez, Squee. It's not even your nightmare; it's mine."

"Yeah, but … well, it was in my head that time. And it's totally gross and wrong. And the more you think about it, the more power it has over you."

"Okay. Now you're just changing the subject."

He sighed again. "Can you blame me?"

"Yes. We need to know if it was serious."

"That means your dad asked you to find out, right?"

"Sorta. But I'm worried too. That was really freaky."

"Yeah. Well. I'm a freaky kind of person, I guess." Todd laughed a little, though she didn't seem too impressed. "You were right earlier. I forgot my meds this morning. I think that's all it was. If anything, it's an improvement over the old, creepy kind of crazy, though, right?"

"Well … I guess it could be an improvement, at least in disposition, but it's still not good."

"I know."

"Are you sure you only missed one pill?"

"Pretty sure."

"Alright. Well, eat your food." She stood up and turned to go.

When he was alone, then chuckled at himself as he reached over to take the plate into his lap. The food wasn't really bad. It wasn't what he was used to, but that was usually a good thing. They had bought the ingredients fresh from an organic grocery, and it tasted less like processed sugar and favoring and more real. As he ate alone, he looked over to his backpack, where his cell phone was zipped into a small front compartment. Pepito was probably finished with whatever he was doing with Zita by now, but Todd was hesitant to call. He would either be the best or worst person to ask about the Void and its stalking him, and there was no way to know which.

"Probably," he whispered to himself to make it more real, "my brain is just replaying an interesting state of consciousness that it had never experienced before … randomly and without my consent. Like what happens with LSD flashbacks." He frowned at that. Hopefully, no one would think he did drugs. He could take a test to prove it, but then they would likely find out that he hadn't been taking his anti-psychotics for about a month, and that wouldn't end well. Not that he was planning on telling Brian about the Void. If he thought the stint at dinner was a psychotic break, what would he think of that?

Luckily, as it turned out, a few more confirmations of the 'forgotten pill' theory, followed by two hours of playing monopoly with the family, was all it took to put his counselor's apprehensions mostly to rest. Of course, he knew that from now on Brian would be watching him more closely with his medication, and he'd promised to report any more mishaps, even though he knew that he probably wouldn't. His gaze lingered on the pill bottle on the bookshelf as he walked back into the study, this time with Leon. He would start the pills again if he had too. They made him feel sedated and numb sometimes, but it was better than the DHMI.

He turned to the back of the room where Leon was scooting his lower half under the covers of the second cot, which was pressed right against three tall bookshelves. His own was at a right angle from it, against the wall that sported two windows. A touch of the old paranoia slipped through the cracks of his gray matter as he took a seat on it, with his back to the outside world and his face to Leon. "So, I heard you got into a fight today."

Leon looked up at him from his horizontal position, surprised. "No."

"Oh. Well, what exactly happ-"

"I don't know!" He let out a giant, melodramatic sigh. "I already told the others: Ms. Diablo, Letta and Brian. Those mean kids were picking on me, and then it happened, but I didn't see it."

"Okay." Todd up his hands up as a sign of defeat, shocked at the near rage in Leon's voice. He made his own voice much softer this time and more curious. "Were you scared when it happened?"

"... yeah. I couldn't see anything, just a lot of white, like the sun was really, really, really bright, but I didn't have any sunglasses to stop the Uvs, and they made me blind even though I couldn't see them doing it."

"When did you start to see again?" He stayed quiet this time, staring with a suborn questioning, so Todd tried again. "What did you see when the white went away?"

"Just … my swing seat on the ground. The chains were broke, and I was on the ground too."

"And the other kids?"

"They were on the ground."

"Do you know how they got there?"

"No." Leon rolled his eyes and huffed. "I guess they got scared that I would hit them when I fail."

"So they jumped to the ground themselves?"

"I guess. I didn't see it."

"Letta said they were hurt. With the chains?"

"Probably. They were pretty stupid." He crossed his arms over his chest and raised a brow at Todd. "Can we go to sleep now?"

"Sure. If you want." Todd frowned at the tone of his voice, but turned off the light just the same. It was what he wanted to do anyway ... even though it was only 9:15 PM, and Leon was very obviously lying. He crawled into his own cot and shimmied around to get comfortable. "Leon, do you … ever hear voices? Maybe commenting on your life or telling to what to do?"

"I'm not crazy."

"I know. But sometimes people have … differences. It doesn't make them crazy, really, but-"

"Todd, I'm really tired. I thought we were going to sleep." Leon pulled the covers over his head.

"We are. I just … I used to hear voices."

"You?" He peeked out at Todd, even though he was looking at the ceiling. "What kind of voices?"

"The kind that told me bad things about people, about the world. And a lot of it was true, but the voice was still … it wasn't good for me. After a while, that's all I was able to see. And when all you see is bad stuff, that stuff is more likely to happen to you because of the way it makes you act. It's called a self-fulfilling prophecy."

"Oh."

"Does any of this sound familiar?"

"No. I don't hear bad voices. Or any voices."

"Oh. Okay then. Good night then." Todd fluffed his pillow a little more forcefully than needed.

"Why did the voices tell you bad things?"

"Umm … it's pretty complicated, I think. We probably shouldn't waste time talking about it if you don't hear any." He lay his head down, and willed his lids to grow heavier as the minutes passed and he started to give up on Leon taking the bait.

"Todd?" Leon spoke up cautiously. "What if I did hear one, but it was only in my dreams? Does that still count?"

"Maybe. What kind of stuff does it tell you?"

"That the Mathers, those people that wanna be my mommy and daddy … they're bad, and they really just wanna hurt me."

Todd turned over onto his stomach to get a better look at Leon. "Did he say why they want to hurt you?"

He shook his head. "They're just bad people, like the Knee man."

"Okay. I'll …I'll talk to Ms. Diablo about it."

"Really? You … you won't tell Brian I'm crazy?"

"No, I won't tell." Todd forced a smile when Leon got out of his cot to give him a hug that was probably as tight as a seven-year-old was capable of.

"Thanks, Todd." Leon smiled back brightly when he let go. "Since you don't like your mommy very much, you can share mine when she comes back. Well, night."

It was hard, and his eyes felt very wide, but he managed to hold the smile until Leon was back in bed, at which point Todd pulled his own covers over his face for a moment. It was almost too much, more than he had expected even. He hadn't been ready for the death-issues, though he'd heard that kids Leon's age sometimes had them. At least he had confirmation of the Shmee situation … sort of. It didn't sound much different from what Shmee had done to him, until he counted the playground incident. And the Mathers, he didn't know what to think of them. He'd only met them once, and that wasn't really enough to tell. Shmee, at least when Todd had been his host, had often exaggerated those kinds of things to feed off his fear, but he had also warned him when there was real danger. And, of course, Leon might just not want to be adopted, especially if he thought his mom was somehow coming back.

So, it was a toss up really, but one that he would have to mention to Ms. Diablo all the same because he couldn't take the chance. He smirked and pulled the covers down, then turned on his side to reach for his cell phone to send Dib a quick text message. If he wanted someone to investigate, maybe the Mathers would be a good substitute for Pepito. Afterward, he played a games on the phone with the sound off until he found himself nodding off. He set it on his chest and closed his eyes for a rest.

Behind his lids the blackness swirled, turning into a dark fog that formed shadows. They moved with a purpose across the peripheral vision of his mind, too fast for him to make out, but slow enough to leave no doubt of their existence. Words were whispered too low to hear, though their tone was urgent. Then in the center of his minds eye, the shadows formed the outline of a thin man with hair-stalks like horns. As he walked, glass and bones crunched beneath his feet, and the dark outline started to gain color. He came closer and closer until until he was glowing, his skin a sickly yellow that contrasted with the deep ruby that his blade appeared to be fashioned from.

"Todd. Todd!"

Todd shook the dream away, though his heart was still beating fast in his chest, and turned his head to face Leon as the boy tugged at his sleeping shirt. "Yeah?"

"Did you hear that? Listen."

They were both quiet for what felt like minutes, and then he heard it: a clanging, rattling sound; the chain that latched the wooden fence that enclosed the back and sides of Brian's yard. He sat up stiffly as the footsteps from his dream recommenced. This time instead of breaking glass and bones, there were crunching leaves, but somehow he sensed it was the same. The stride sounded the same, and the dreadful feeling that it gave him definitely was.

Leon jerked his sleeve harder, leaning closer to whisper in a near panic, "It's him! It's the Scary Neighbor Man! He's comin' to get me."

There was a familiar sharp screeching sound against windows of the living room and then the paneling of the house outside, coming closer. For several seconds, Todd sat there, frozen as the stress mounted in steady increments like it had when he was Leon's age, before finally thrashing out of the cot and onto the floor on his knees. He pulled Leon to the left side of the window, then pushed him into the corner. "Stay quiet." At his tearful nod, he pulled one of Brian's golf clubs from the bag at the foot of his cot and leaned against the wall beside it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a bent nose press itself against the glass of the nearest window, fogging it up with steamy breaths as the knife scrapped a path on the side.

"Little boy, are you in there?"

Todd's hands tightened on the metal handle of the club at the creepy sing-song way that Johnny called out, and the way his knife stabbed at the glass in a mockery of knocking. The voices from his dream seemed to scream at him from beneath the subtle sounds from outside, rising and falling with the pitch of the commotion as if they drew their energy from it. He still couldn't make out any words, but the meaning was clearly danger. His breath hitched at the sound of the glass breaking, and then he raised the club as he watched Johnny leap inside to land in a crouching position on his shard-battered cot.

Johnny's eyes quickly scanned the right side of the room, taking in the second empty cot even as they formed narrowed slits. "You _said_ he was here," he accused, low and harsh. One of his booted feet left the cot for the hard wood floor, and he started to turn his head to the other side of the room, but instead his vision blacked out, betraying him right when he needed it most. He felt himself falling to the floor before he felt the pain, which was blunt and numbing like the kind he'd felt when Devi had given him a concussion.

When he hit the floor, the pain was worse. He landed with one leg still twisted in the covers at a bad angle that likely meant it was broken, and his head tilted sideways so that he could vaguely make out the form of Squee for a few seconds when his sight came back blurry. Then there was hot liquid leaking from the back of his head, sticky and revolting and obviously blood. All that he could have forgiven, but then he felt his consciousness slipping away, and an ardent surge of anger flashed through his damaged brain before the darkness rose to take him by force once again. Morpheus and Hypnos were both cruel, rapist bastards.

"Oh, shit." Todd stood there in the dim light, part of him wanting to kneel down to make sure that Johnny was still alive, but another part wanting desperately not to touch him. There was still some fear, of course, that he would spring back to full consciousness and attack as soon as he got close enough, like a monster in a horror movie. More than that, though, he just hated the thought of touching him, that loose, clammy skin over thin, elastic-feeling bone. It was always too cold and somehow sharp like the knives he always carried around. That, and Todd sometimes had the odd feeling that whatever was wrong with Johnny might be catching. The last thought made him feel guiltily because it was how his parents felt about him.

Leon moved forward, but Todd stopped him with his arm as Brian flung the door open and caught his breath at the sight of Johnny unconscious and bleeding on the floor of his study.

"My God, what happened?" Brian said after gathering up enough breath to talk. "What … why ..."

"Uh, I don't know. He broke in." Todd pointed to the window in a stupor as though it would explain everything. "I thought … I don't know."

"Of course, of course you did." Gripping Leon's pajama top, Brian pulled him across the floor, then gestured for Todd to move as well, as if he could erase the whole situation and associated trauma if he could just get them away from the body fast enough. By the time they were in the hall, Letta, Jordan, and Brian's folks were already there, alerted by the noise. "Letta, honey, call 9-11."

* * *

END CHAPTER!

Notes:

-Derick's name is spelled Der-ick on purpose.

-Leon is a Santaist, but there was no good way to fit that info in with his point of view, though it may come up later from someone else's. Info from SubAwake trivia journal:

Santaism (Leon, Membrane) notes:

Based on Invader Zim episode, The Most Horrible X-mas Ever, in which the myth of Santa has taken on a even stronger hold on the popular imagination, and split away from Christianity even more while at the same time retaining its own religious fever. Even though the most popular western tale is associated with Saint Nicholas, there are other "Santa" myths around the world, some older and not associated with Christianity to begin with, making Santaism a diverse, world wide religion with various interpretations of Santa and his (or her in some cases) origins. Some believers still practice Santaism as an extension of another religions, though most have simply embraced Santa without any baggage. In some sects, Santa had taken on characteristics of major deities from previous religions (such as the belief that he will return to the world to bring peace and take his rightful place as ruler of the world).  
Membrane is more of an AntiSantaist (ever since Santa brought him socks as a child), maintaining that Santa is an evil being and thus having built the AntiSanta Arsenal for the purposes of eliminating him for the good of all mankind.

-Pepito's skool friends in this story are almost all minor Invader Zim characters from Dib and Zim's class: Zita, Bryan (his name is Brian in the show, but I spelled it with a y so it wouldn't be the same as Todd's counselor's), The Letter M, Torque Smacky, Alex and Poonchy. Only Crissy and Missy are mine. And yeah, Zita's hair was purple back in 5th grade (the show), but so many of the others have it too, and a lot of people that dye their hair tend to change colors over the years.

-The Infinite Energy Absorbing creature and its eating of previous Tallests comes from the script for "The Trial". The man with the neck-meats is Turkey Neck, who Dib meets in "Chicken Foot" at the Sweaty Pit.

-Torque Smacky is a kid from Invader Zim in Dib & Zim's class (see "Dark Harvest"). He really does live in the Sweaty Pit in IZ-his name is listed there in Chicken Foot. Jessica is the stuck-up blond girl from their class as well (see "Bestest Friend"). This section draws from ch 6 where Pepito told a large group in the library about Jessica's pregnancy because she was picking on Gretchen, even though he is sort of friends with Torque. It probably seems random now because I wrote that so long ago.

-I tried not to make the biaphobic arguing scene too preachy and extensive, but eh... it is an argument meant to show flaws with political agendas manipulating social truth in illogical and often counterproductive ways and with people assuming everyone whose experience/feelings are different than them is wrong/lying/in denial. Letta does that with monosexual identity and Pepito does it by assuming that all monosexuals are lying/in denial (but he doesn't force labels on them and insult them out right like Letta does to nonmonsexuals, so in never turned into an argument). Anyway, since this story was changed from a Gaz/Squee to PepSquee long ago and I'd already written in Squee liking Gaz, he's technically bisexual in this fic (and most of my other writings because it bleed through), and bisexual people inevitability face these kinds of attitudes, especially from the gay community.

-Probable biological predisposition for pedophilia is true. I learned about it in a college level abnormal psychology class and there are examples of research all over google. Same is true for violent crime, heroism and all kinds of things. They still have huge environmental components, and the most unbiased, unflawed "gay studies" (and there aren't many that aren't flawed and politically motivated) indicate a similar complex interaction model.

-Pansexual-can be differentiated from bisexual because the bi implies attraction to people of two sexes (men and women), while pansexuality implies all or many sexes of people (men, women, transsexuals, inter-sexed people -xxy, xo, xyy, ect-, gender queer people and in a scific/fantasy type story like this also aliens, demons, and other beings with sentience that aren't human). Most pansexuals also identify as bi in addition to offer solidarity to the most visible nonmonosexual label, though there is overlap aside from that as well -some bisexuals will only date men and women, some are closer to pansexual and some have a different attraction scale all together.

- In case anyone is curious, I'm from north Alabama, and Letta's grandparents are partly based on a mixture of my own older relatives as well as other elderly people I know from the area. As for Brian getting in that fight, I'm not trying to further stereotypes, but if you get far enough into some of the rural areas of south-eastern states, there are scary places with extreme Southern Baptists that believe they're the only true Christians (who hid in secret throughout the ages to escape persecution) and that Catholicism, yoga and just about everything else is a form of devil worship. They generally supplement their church teachings with chick tracks (wildly historically/socially inaccurate evangelical comic strips, popularly known amongst non-fundamentalists as hate literature-it's even banned in some countries for this reason).

-The reason you don't need meat if you've got pinto beans and corn bread (or any kind of corn product for the most part) is because together their amino acids make a complete protein similar to that found in many meats. This mixture was a big supplement for the Native Americans, especially the Mesoamericans.

- Simmons is really Membranes assistant in IZ. Membrane is always talking to him on his goggle-phone things. In Future Dib, a flying screen comes to the skool to ask Gaz and Dib ("the Professor's roommates" to come to the PEG opening, and I'm assuming that's him. If not it probably reflects what most people at the lab thought. I don't own Simmons, though Jordan is an OC.

-Jordan's beliefs about kosher laws were largely inspired by a sermon by Rabbi Barry H. Block: Reform Judaism's New Perspective on Keeping Kosher. Source article: http : //www . Beth-elsa . org/be_s0119a . htm

-Todd wanting to pray to Mr. or Missus God is based on his prayer in first page of the first issue of the comic Squee! Missus means a married woman or a mistress/lover. Combined the "or" seems to indicate that God may be a man or a woman and the "missus" to indicate that God (likely male or female version) is married to a co-god/ess. It's a very Wiccan type idea, but also one that many kids assume before their parents tell them differently (because idea of God or Goddess is based on creator as parent and parents usually come in twos and usually mother and father). The part where he's thinking about Letta worrying is a reference to Ch 7 of the fic when he thought that maybe his bad luck was a result of "like attracts like" and that meant he was a bad person.

-Dickelodeon is the SubAwake version of Nickelodeon because … it was just too easy, and felt somewhat appropriate for an IZ fic, considering that they dropped Zim how boxed in they made JV feel. And yes, it's Dick for short and there's Dick at Nite, Turbodick, , etc. Plus, it kind of fits in with the Poop Cola type of jokes from the show. I know I'm terrible. Not sure what implications this has for the nickel or the nickelodeon machines of the SubAwake universe.

-Morpheus and Hypnos- Greek gods of dreams and sleep respectively.


	21. Chapter 21

**Sublime Awakenings Chapter Twenty-One: Breaking Glass  
**

**

* * *

**Warnings: Coarse language, violence, sexual themes/jokes, fluffy romantic stuff, minor Irken sex ed scene/description (not written for erotic purposes), lots of Irken bio/social speculation/info dump.

* * *

Todd slumped farther into his seat in the fourth floor waiting room of the City Central Hospital, stifling a yawn behind his hand as he looked to the clock on the wall. It read nearly midnight, making it an hour and forty odd minutes he'd been here in his blood-speckled night clothes. The pants weren't so bad because they were red flannel, but the Shenandoah Shakespeare shirt was white, aside from the black text that read: 'We do it with the lights on'.

Johnny had been released from the intensive care unit and moved to a regular room for recuperation nearly an hour ago. As soon as he had regained consciousness, several police officers and an official from the DHMI had gone in to have a chat with him: a chat that Todd figured would end in his immediate release, as was usual for Johnny. It was actually surprising that he was being treated and questioned at all. He usually managed to slip through the hands of society's authorities like a slimy slug-like thing with an immunity to salt. However, it wasn't as though that, or the fact that Johnny wouldn't have stayed dead even if the club had killed him, stopped Todd from feeling bad about it.

He still didn't know if he had overreacted to the break in. Johnny had visited him by way of broken window plenty when he was a kid, but it had never been completely safe, and he had moved to the institution before he might have stopped being afraid, had it continued. Plus, for the past few weeks Johnny had been acting differently toward him, more suspicious and mechanical. Todd knew from both research and experience that those were bad signs, signs that, for many serial killers, meant that they were distancing themselves in preparation for a kill. So he had tried his best to avoid Johnny until the mood would hopefully pass, even though he wasn't sure what had caused it to be directed at him to begin with.

A frown tugged his lips downward. With Johnny it could really be anything; he paid more attention to the trivial details of social interaction than anyone Todd had ever meet, which was saying a lot. He also had scary and dangerous delusions of wall monsters and figments that urged him to kill, along with mood swings and memory problems. In all honesty, he had given up truly trying to understand the maniac years ago, instead taking the more practical route of learning to adapt to the strange patterns of his behavior to minimize potential harm. But that too, didn't mean he didn't care. And it obviously hadn't worked out very well this time.

"Hey there, Squeegee!" Elize dropped into the seat beside him in her more solid form and passed him a cup of chocolate truffle coffee, which had been her personal favorite when she had lived. "I saw Letta in the hall, and she said to tell you that she and her friend were going back home for the night, but to call if you need her. Brian and the kid are still at the nurse's office."

"O-oh. Thanks … Elize. I didn't know you were here." He took the cup slowly.

"Just got here." She looked away from his face, letting some of her loose, wavy coal hair hide part of her own in shame. "Sorry about Johnny. I was … well, I was sort of busy, and I thought I'd locked him in pretty tight."

"What? Locked him in?"

"Yeah. I'm not supposed to let him go gallivanting around on his own, but staying alone with him in that shack isn't exactly conductive to my mental health. It's just as bad as being attached twenty-four-seven, so to speak, to one of the worst souls in Hell, really." Elize paused to consider. "Well, not the absolute worst. I've known worse than Johnny. There's this pimpley little fucker named Jimmy, and you wouldn't believe- anyway, you get the point. So, I hit him over the head with a crowbar and locked him in one of the lower torture chambers." She smirked at the look of shock on his face. "Oh, you shouldn't feel bad, by the way. I do it nearly every time I need some peace."

"But, isn't that … I don't know … bad for him?"

"Eh. He gets brain-damaged sometimes, but it always mends after a while. Back to its usual level, that is." He still looked disturbed, but she continued, "Anyhow, the chamber seemed pretty sturdy, and there was only one exit, but I guess there could have been rust. The network under his house is really old. Did you know that?"

He shook his head as he took a tentative taste of the drink, not quite trusting it because of it's origins in the coffee machine around the corner.

"Yeah. The house itself has been there for at least a hundred years too … except that it's fallen apart a lot over that time, and whoever lived there used hack-repairs. Now most of the original building is either nearly rotten or has been replaced with cheep scraps and plywood."

"How do you know that?"

"I've been bored out of my disembodied mind, so I started trying to make the shack resemble an actual house. Seriously, though, it'd be easier to tear the place down and start again. Johnny's against that method, of course." Elize rolled her eyes. Johnny seemed to be against all her better ideas as a matter of principle. "Anyway, some of the older materials were engraved with dates for around a hundred years ago."

"Creepy." He took another sip. "I don't think my parents' house is that old."

"Neither do I. Or any other houses on that block."

"So, what does that mean?"

"Probably nothing. Besides that the previous owners were just as poor as Johnny, and never got around to rebuilding like their neighbors. Even though the other houses are newer, there have probably been houses on those lots for at least two hundred years. I know they started rebuilding on the smaller crash sites before fifty years had passed since The Rogue Impact. Of course, I wasn't alive for that." She paused to reflect. "Damn, I've been dead for a long time."

"Oh." Slouching down even more, Todd tried not to think about that. Even though the history books said that radiation levels had been low at most sites, less than fifty years was … not very long to wait. No wonder that whole section of town had such low property value. It had to have dissipated by the time his family moved there, though.

She laughed and crossed her legs. "What do you think it means?"

"I dunno. Don't you think the labyrinth of torture chambers is just a little unusual?"

"Oh. Well, duh. Maybe they were just as deranged too."

"Hum. But they'd also have to be more … competent, I guess. And focused. And really, really dedicated."

"Some people are, you know."

"Yeah. Organized killers. That's actually very scary." Maybe scarier that Johnny. From what he had read in one of Brian's books on abnormal psychology, there were two main types of serial killers: the organized and the disorganized. The first group generally had above average intelligence, blended in well with society and took great care to organize their crimes and leave little evidence. The second, like Johnny, killed on impulse or opportunistically, often leaving the body at the scene and often having very few friends and many more mental problems.

"Yeah. But whoever that guy was, he's gotta be in Hell by now, so no worries, right?"

He raised a brow. "In Hell where you live? So, do yo have to deal with people like that a lot?"

"Oh, no. They have their own special section for the most part. And I mostly work in Heaven, but sometimes I have to escort them to The Pit when they first arrive. Some of my least fond dates have started that way …."

"The … Pit? Really?" He cringed at her last sentence, but decided that he didn't particularly want more information about that part.

"Heh. Yeah. It's the most torturous part of Hell, designed for the truly terrible ones." She patted Todd on the shoulder. That kid, he really needed to light up. "Most of Hell isn't really about torture, aside from the self-inflicted kind, but some people … well, they're so far gone that they really can't feel anything outside themselves and their wants. They've got no empathy. So, the demons make them relive what they've done to other people from the victim's perspective until they do actually feel it."

"Does that work?"

" … sometimes. It takes a while, and there's no guarantee, but from what I hear, it's the best method. Well, more like the only method for most of them."

With a nod, he looked down at his coffee, now only half-full. "I'm not sure if that's really good or really horrific."

"I've come to think that some things are both; most things if you look at them closely enough. Black and white are really only colors; they don't really work as a model of values."

"Maybe." He continued to stare at the coffee, but before he could give her words the proper contemplation they deserved, a clearing throat interpreted. Looking up, he saw Brian and a drowsy Leon standing at the entrance. "Hey."

Brian forced a smile. "The police are finished for now if you'd like to speak with him."

"Johnny?" He found himself cringing again. Still, it was probably better to get it over with rather than have Johnny jump to conclusions, so he stood reluctantly. "Alright."

"You don't have to."

"No. I think I need to." When Brian touched his shoulder on the way out, he smiled back nervously, then headed back down the hall near the elevators, to room number 407. Before opening the door, he took a steadying breath.

Johnny's hands gripped the metal railings of the hospital bed harder when the door to his room was opened once again. If it was the nurse wanting him to take more pain medication again, he was going to split her skull open with the first movable thing he could get his hands on … even if it was a tissue.

The door closed behind Todd even though he would have rather it not when he let the knob go, and he found himself taking a few steps away from Johnny before either of them had said a word. His expression didn't bode well. "H-hey, Nny."

"Squee!" Johnny's face softened a little when he saw that it was Squee and not the nurse, although he was still fairly pissed. "You hit me, didn't you? You know how I hate sleep, goddammit!"

"Uh, yeah, Nny. I'm really sorry about the sleep. I just wanted … you woke me up from a kind of nightmare and I didn't know if-" He sighed, irritated with himself and the situation. What he really needed right now was a freezy to calm the homicidal anger. "What were you doing there anyway?"

Suddenly, Johnny's face scrunched up as though he could smell the stench of the body-clogged tunnel that led to Squee's basement. "You!" he sneered, "You tried to steal him from me!"

"What?" The word was forced up Todd's throat and out of his mouth, and it sounded dry, almost more like a cough. There was no way … Johnny couldn't know.

"That kid! Leon! _My_ son! You took him, and they're trying to give him to useless, meat-bag strangers. And you, my ever-faithful little 'friend' didn't even tell me!"

"How did you-"

"The fucking beaver told me. The beaver!" Johnny threw his hands into the air, wishing that one of them was holding a knife. "But it doesn't matter how I know! You tried to steal him, and you will admit it, or … or I'll take your toes! I'll hang you by them until they get gangrene and rot away. You can't walk without your precious toes! Did you know _that_?"

Todd shook his head, and wondered for a second if he might be causing damage with how much he'd been doing it lately. "Steal him? Johnny, he was never yours. You didn't even know he existed."

"That's beside the point! You should have told me! How could you _not_ tell me that I have a fucking kid?"

"How could I _not_?" He had been trying to keep his voice calm before, but now it was starting to rise with his own anger. In the back of his mind, the small part of himself that always felt as though it was watching traumatic events instead of experiencing them first-hand was a little dumbfounded. Usually he suppressed hostile feelings, especially when they were aroused by Johnny. "What the hell are you going to do with a kid when you can't even take care of yourself? What was I supposed to do, just say, 'here ya go Nny, try to make sure that he eats at least once a week, and oh yeah, have fun traumatizing him beyond any semblance of humanity! And please don't ignore him or torture him to death when every time you look at him all you see is your own failings staring at you from broken window of the ruins of what could have been your life!' Well, I'm not going to do that! "

Johnny's teeth ground together unevenly because of the random chips on top and bottom. "And just how the fucking hell do you know what I see when I look at him?"

"Because I have to hear you rant about that shit that crawls around in the holes it's eaten in your brain all the time! Because between you and my parents, I've lived that life, and no one deserves that. That's how they end up like you." Todd's voice faltered and his chest ached a little, but he didn't back down. "I'm not going to let that happen to another child."

"You ungrateful little shit! I tell you those things for your own fucking good, but do you listen? Does anyone ever really listen?" He sat up as straight as he could as his voice grew lower and deeper. "And just how're you going to keep me from him? Huh?"

For a few seconds, all Todd could do was gape. Those last words had been so petty. That wasn't unusual with Johnny in itself, but there was something else. It was condescending and teasing, sort of like a playground bully that also happened to be the teacher's pet. That, he'd never heard from Johnny before. "I … I'll tell the courts what you do. And if they don't believe me, then … I'll take Lee and run."

"Arg!" Johnny rocked forward onto his knees and then his feet. Then he leaped up from the bed, shooting across the room to grab Squee around the neck, pressing his back into the wall with a slam. The sudden movement caused him to feel dizzy and even a bit nauseous, but he did his best to ignore that for the time being."I should have killed you for real as soon as it became apparent that you were turning into one of _them_! The beaver tried to warn me! All this time, I've tried to defend you, and now look! Well, your satanic little boyfriend isn't here now, is he?"

Todd's hands tightened on Johnny's wrists so that his knuckles turned white as he pried the hands from his neck with adrenaline pumping through his veins. "You're weak Johnny. Blood lose does that." After pulling the arms apart, he kicked him in the abdomen, sending him tumbling backwards before shoving him harshly back onto the small bed. "And I'm not one of your random, petrified victims anymore." His voice was darker, more sinister than he had ever heard himself, but he ignored the small spike of fear that caused, instead reaching for the IV that hung loosely from the bag of fluid to the left of the bed.

Johnny stared up at him with wide, shocked eyes as the long needle was brought to his neck, and Squee pushed him flat on the bed with his other hand on his chest. Some of the anger subsided. Maybe the dizziness was causing him to hallucinate? "So what, you're gonna kill me now? Again?"

"If I have to." Todd met his eyes dead on as he pressed the needle forward ever so slightly. "As many times as I have to." Johnny's hand moved up to grip his arm as the dripping needle broke his skin to shed a few drops of his blood, but it did little good. He seemed to has wasted all his energy with the failed attack. Todd leaned down slightly lower as his voice dropped. "I really recommend that you sleep on this. What I did was for Leon's own good. If you care about him at all, you'll see that he's better off without you."

The sedative slowly took affect, confining Johnny's conscious mind to its questionably mortal casing, and Todd caught the hand that had held his arm as it fell. He lay it on Johnny's chest, and stepped back. Again he stared silently as the heat in his veins faded, and the reality of what he had just done demanded his attention. When his eyes started to sting, he left the room, walking down the hall at a brisk pace. He didn't bother to stop at the open indenture that was the waiting room, instead going right for the nearest restroom.

He marched right up to the row of sinks with mirrors above each one, scanning the area on his way. Just as he'd hoped, there was no one else. The tears could fall here, and no one would have to know that they had or why. He took a shaky breath as the warm, emotionally polluted salt-water ran down his cheeks and over the curves of his lips.

As always, he was torn between watching his reflection and looking away. In was a stupid habit, really, crying in front of mirrors, but seemed to amplify the feelings so that they were felt and purged faster. It was almost like sharing the pain with someone who would never judge or tell. It felt purifying, like a type of psychological baptism.

But it had its drawbacks as well, like reminding him of how much he happened to resemble his mother. Not that his father wasn't there, and not that he would have been better. Superficially, his complexion, hair and eye color had come from Mark, while his lips, nose and basic facial structure was much more like Jennifer's. The superficial elements weren't the ones that bothered him. It was something else, something harder to place. Maybe it was just him, but it seemed most apparent when he was crying … probably because she had done it so often. Whenever her eyes hadn't been dulled with the drugs, they had been large and shiny and haunted, just like his own. Though hers were blue and his were brown, the similarities ran deeper, were more prominent at times like this, if you knew what to look for.

He sighed and pushed those useless thoughts away. His problem now was Johnny and what he would do when he inevitably woke up and got free. Was he really going to kidnap an alien-possessed seven year old and hit the streets? He didn't know, but he desperately hoped that it wouldn't come to that. He could probably evade Johnny if it came down to it, but he didn't really know how to live on the streets, and he was pretty sure he wouldn't like the process of learning. There had to be something, some way to make Johnny understand. A slightly broken laugh escaped him when he remembered what Elize had said about torturing the empathy into them. The laughter was instinctively silenced when the restroom door opened.

"Todd?" Pepito eased into the room with a smooth, careful motion, trying to keep his presence unobtrusive.

"Pepito? What …" Todd wiped his eyes with the back of his hand as he turned around to face Pepito instead of their reflected images. "What are you-"

"Elize called my house to report in about Johnny."

"Oh. So …"

"Mother and I were in the waiting room, and I saw you shoot past. I wasn't sure if you'd want me in here, or if I should give you a few minutes, but it's pretty late, and-" He took a few steps closer. "Are you okay?"

Todd forced a nod. "Dandy." He laughed a little when Pepito raised a brow at the word choice, though it sounded a bit like a sob.

When Pepito moved again, Todd stayed in place, allowing him to rest a hand on his shoulder. "Is it because you talked to Johnny, or because you missed the eighteenth hole when you tried to putt his head?"

"Ha." His laugh was weak. "I think it's the first one."

"Figures. I was hoping I could just give you advice on your back-swing." Squeezing his shoulder, Pepito gave him a small smile. "What happened in there?"

"Ug. Nothing. Nothing good." Todd let out a deep breath. "We sort of screamed at each other, and he tried to chock me, and I stabbed him in the neck with an IV needle."

"Really?"

He nodded, somewhat ashamed despite Pepito impressed tone. "It was … I was really not too nice. But he knew about Leon. That's why he broke in at Brian's. He wanted his … his son, and I couldn't … I can't let him just-"

"Shh." Pepito pulled him into a loose embrace. "I know, Amigo. It's not your fault."

"You always say that."

"Because it's always true."

"Always?" He huffed a laugh. "I find that hard to believe."

"Yes, well … this isn't your fault. You have a right to defend yourself. I, for one, am pretty proud of you."

"I think I just made it worse.

"I doubt it."

"The thing with Leon, I mean, by fighting with him. And … the way he looked at me at the end … it was like he didn't even know who I am."

"Todd, he's completely crazy. There's no way you could always watch your step perfectly with him, and you shouldn't have to." His hand ran up and down Todd's back slowly as a few tears landed on the sleeve of his shirt. "And of course he's going to think distorted things about you eventually; his whole world is distorted."

"I know, but … I'm an idiot."

"Don't say that."

"I can't help it. I don't know why I couldn't just keep my mouth shut … it's been bottled up for so long. And he … I care what he thinks, even if it's stupid because he … he's like … I don't know ..."

"Family?"

A sort sob racked his body and he wrapped his own arms around Pepito as well. "Oh, God, how did that happen?"

"Time, isolation … investment in one of the few emotional constants in your life." He shook his head, not really wanting to think about the specifics because he knew it was close to how Todd had finally come around to being his own friend. "I'm sorry. He'll … he'll probably get over it, you know, eventually."

Todd sniffled, then felt his face flush at how pathetic he was being. "He still can't have a kid."

"No."

"It wouldn't work, and by that I don't just mean it be would dysfunctional."

"I know, Amigo. You don't need to convince me."

"What am I going to do?" he asked in a weak voice. "What if he comes back? I … I told him we would run away."

Pepito frowned. "Well, I don't think you should do that. You're always welcome at my house. He can't break in there. In any case, Johnny shouldn't be bothering you for a while. He's going to be taking a small vacation at the DHMI until he cools his under-active mind of some of those distortions."

"What? Really? But, Johnny doesn't get noticed … ever. You said so yourself."

"True, but …." Pepito's fingers moved up to play with the chain around the back of Todd's neck. "I have some pull with those who run the System. Enough to keep him secure until he no longer wishes to harm you, anyway."

"But I thought you said his job was really important."

"Yes, the job itself is, but there are other waste locks. His role isn't so important that they can't pick up his slack for a while. That job comes with a lot of stress, and they all need breaks every now and then."

"That's good. Thank you." He looked to Pepito with immense relief, but it faded as he really thought about it. "You don't think he can get free somehow? They … they don't know how dangerous he really is."

Pepito was quiet for a moment, wondering if Todd would take it better if he could tell him the whole truth: that keeping Johnny wasn't just a favor from the System to Pepito. It was an automatic defense of the Prophet. "How about you come home with me? You can stay all weekend; longer if he hasn't calmed down."

"What about Leon? "

"Leon too. And we'll get Elize to make sure Johnny knows so that he won't go back to Brian's. Okay?"

"Okay. I … I'll have to ask Brian."

"I'm sure Madre can convince him it's best." Pepito tightened the hug for a few seconds before stepping back and taking Todd by the hand to lead him out of the bathroom. "Don't worry, Todd. By the time he gets out, he might not even remember any of it."

"Remember … Pep, wait!" Todd grabbed the wall that separated the small hall of the entrance from the rest of the bathroom as he was guided by it, then used their linked hands to pull Pepito back a little. Now that the immediate stress of the situation had faded, he felt like he was seeing it more clearly. "He knows about Leon. _How_ does he know? Besides me, you and your father are the only other people that know, and know Johnny, right? Zim was there when Bitters told me, but I don't think it meant anything to him. He's never met Johnny, and I don't think he ever told Dib about that part. And I didn't tell anyone."

"Well, I certainly didn't, and Father hasn't spoken with him in weeks." Pepito frowned again as he leaned against the wall. "I don't think anyone else knows."

"Bitters knew."

He nodded. "Yes, but she's dead."

"We think she's dead … just like we thought Zim was dead, but there's no body."

"That's a bit of a stretch, Amigo, but okay. Why would she just drop by to tell him that? She wanted Leon to live out the rest of his human life, not be killed by Johnny."

"I don't know." Todd let himself fall back against the opposite wall, across from Pepito. "Maybe he just figured it out on his own. Do you think he could do that? He said that new figment, Waffles, told him."

"Well, you know I don't have the most confidence in Johnny's mental capabilities, but Leon does look like him a little. Enough to notice subconsciously, I guess, assuming Johnny looked more like him when he was younger, before he became a miserable wreak." He shrugged. "Elize said that he's been talking to the figment more and more."

"Is that good or bad?"

"She thinks it's good, that it's a personification of his conscious or something. He's been killing and having outbursts less since he's been listening to it."

"Pep, I'm not sure Johnny has a conscious. Not the usual kind, anyway. His conscious tells him to pay for things after the person selling them is already dead, but not to not kill them to begin with."

"Yeah. That's why I think it's actually from the Administration. Sent to keep him grounded, you know? To reduce the damage to an acceptable level."

"But taking Leon couldn't be a part of that, could it? Wouldn't the System want to keep him away from innocent children if it's trying to minimize the damage? And the figment; have you ever seen it?"

"By 'it', do you mean the beaver or the figment?" He continued when Todd's brow creased. "Elize said that the beaver is real, as in a real baby beaver. I haven't seen it, though. He hasn't been over to my house much. And I'd probably have to read his mind to really see it how he does." Pepito nearly cringed at the thought. "And I've found that I like humans a lot more if I limit the use of that particular skill to mostly necessary things."

Todd nodded slowly. That made sense, actually. In the past, Johnny's figments had always been attached to real life objects; however …. "Is it … alive?"

"Last time I checked with Elize, which was about a week ago. I'm surprised you don't know more about this than I do. You see him more."

"Yeah, well, I've … sorta been avoiding him because he's been acting so off. And keeping a live animal is very not like him. When I was a kid, he used to grind them up and use them to stuff dolls." He reached to take Pepito's hand back into his own when his eyes flashed red. "Don't. He's asleep."

"I wasn't. I already know how fucked up he is. But I'll get Father to check with the System for sure about 'Waffles'." When Todd nodded, he squeezed his hand and pushed off the wall. "Come on."

---------------Scene Shift---------------

As they followed Rosemary into the Diablo house through the front door, Leon's clumsy steps became even more erratic, and Todd had to hold him up by the forearm when his weight lagged toward the floor. They made it a few more steps before he took a hold of Leon's other arm as well while Pepito closed and locked the door behind them. "Hey, Lee, you think you could wait until you're lying down to fall asleep by any chance?"

"Huh?" Leon forced his eyes open, gripping one of Todd's wrists to help sturdy himself. "Maybe." He yawned, then smiled in a drowsy way. "There might be a small chance."

"Great." He returned the smile as he used his hold on Leon's arms to move him from side to side, which had the effect of keeping him awake and probably making him more dizzy.

"Aww. Come here, sweetie. Are you ready for bed?" Kneeling on one knee, Rosemary put her arms out to pull Leon closer, even though he still clung lightly to Todd's wrist until Todd pulled it further away. "Pepi, could you be a dear and fold the couch out?"

"Sure, Mother." He clasped Todd on the shoulder on the way. "You can use the shower in my room if you want."

"What?" Todd was confused for a few seconds, until he followed Pepito's gaze and remembered that he had Johnny's blood on his clothes and skin. "Oh. Okay." He headed up the stairs, into the first bedroom on the right after the hall closet, and then into the bathroom, where he undressed with a shiver that wasn't entirely due to the cool bathroom floor on the soles of his bare feet as he waited for the falling water to warm. It was probably a bad sign that he could forget something like that so easily. It had happened too many times in the past, and this recent splattering was pretty minor in comparison.

When steam started to creep out from behind the curtain to make his skin sticky and moist, he pulled it back and stepped into the downpour, letting the hot water do what it could to ease the lingering stress and persistent worry that Johnny had left him with. Hung from a purple rope around the shower nozzle was a waterproof radio with clear plastic skin that showed it's inner workings, except the for dial that was set to a local rock station and the two red and blue dragons that appeared to be chasing each others' tails around the boarder. It made Todd smile, it and the shaving razor that was next to the soap he picked up. Apparently, the bathroom no longer needed 'Todd-proofing'. That or Pepito had just forgotten.

As he moved on to the shampoo, he yawned, then let the intake of air out in a long, lazy sigh. On his way to the bathroom, Pepito's alarm clock had read nearly two in the morning. It was no wonder Leon was ready to pass out really. His own body sure felt ready too, but his mind was another story. It would be hard to stop it from continuing to play out possible scenarios of what might happen next and of what had been happening with Johnny during the last few weeks.

Maybe this mess was his own fault and he should have paid more attention, but either way, all he could do now was hope that something turned up. Before they left the hospital, they had reported that the patient in room 406 was missing a young pet beaver that he had come in with, and left Elize, posing as Johnny's fiancé once again, in charge of making sure that security searched for it. Then they had followed Brian back to his place to pack a few quick bags for Leon and himself, and search for Waffles there. Todd distinctly remembered Johnny speaking with someone else after he had crashed through the window, but the search had turned up nothing, and Elize had yet to call. There was still the possibility that it was at Johnny's house, but that didn't seem very likely because if it was alive and if it was at Brian's house, then it would have to travel several miles back to that part of town.

"Ugh." Quickly, he rubbed conditioner into his hair, then rinsed it out in only a few seconds. After he shut the water off, it only took a few more seconds with a towel from the black metal rack to the left of the slower to dry as well, which was a nice change that had come with his current short cut. After he dressed in a fresh pair of loose sleeping clothes, he unlocked the door and emerged back into Pepito's bedroom to see Pepito sitting at his desk, already clad in his night clothes, and typing on the keypad to his computer. "Hey."

"Hey." Pepito swung his chair around to face Todd, picking up a pink breast cancer awareness mug from the left side of his desk and holding it out for him to take. "Mother wants to you drink this."

Todd took the drink, looking into the off-white mixture with a raised brow. "Is it milk?"

"Yeah. With honey and nutmeg. To help you sleep." He turned back to the computer as he watched Todd sit on his bed and take a slow, cautious sip. "Are you still okay?"

"Yeah. Just a little shaken up." He looked down at the warm milk, which he wasn't usually a fan of, for a moment before drinking more. It still wasn't the best thing ever, but the added ingredients did help the taste. "What are you doing?"

"Just emailing some people; canceling everything I was supposed to do this weekend."

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's not you're fault Johnny's insane, Amigo." Pepito rested his chin on his fist as he sent Todd a quick smile. "Besides, now we get to hang out this weekend after all, right?"

Todd let out a laugh. "That's a nice way to look at it."

"Yeah. It's either that or I focus on how pissed I am that his issues put you in danger again." He raised a hand palm up when Todd started to protest. "Don't worry. I know that won't help."

"Thanks."

Pepito sighed. "You shouldn't have to thank me either. You did the right thing with Leon. It's just bad luck that Johnny found out."

"I know."

"Good."

"Do you think we should tell your mom?"

"About Johnny being his … sperm donor?" At a nod from Todd, he turned off the power to his computer without bothering to let it shut down like he usually did."I suppose we should. Tomorrow. It's going to come out when Johnny starts talking at the DHMI anyway."

"But we still don't know, not for sure, do we?"

"They'd do a paternity test, but it's not going to matter. One look at Johnny's life-style, even if the authorities can't see the killing, should be enough to rule him out as a suitable parent. And there's already a family lined up for him."

"Yeah, the Mathers. I … kind of need to talk to your mom about them too."

"Are you serious? What's wrong with them?"

"Shmee, he talks to Leon in his sleep, told him that they want to kill him. It could just be a ploy to get him to stay with me or something, but Shmee's been right about those things before."

"Damn." Pepito covered his upper face with a hand, then let it drag down to fall off his chin. "Okay. You're right. That might give Johnny enough time to make a case, and the Noodle Boy hype will appeal to some people, but the ambiguity spell from the System should keep the story away from the press, like how it toned down his public connection to Noodle. And he's still clearly incompetent. I doubt he even has enough presence of mind to file the proper paperwork."

"He has his periods of clarity." Todd almost laughed at the defensive tone of his own voice. It was stupid really, still wanting to defend someone who had tried to choke him less than a few hours ago … just as bad a how long he had held onto the belief that his parents really loved him deep down when he was a kid. Pepito's expression said it all, but Todd was thankful that he didn't comment on it.

"So, we're going to deal with all of this in the morning." Pepito stood up and pushed his chair closer to the desk. "You ready for bed?"

"I guess. Elize still hasn't called?"

"No, but Father did. She's going to the mental institution when they move Johnny, and Father and some of his demons and followers are out looking for Waffles." He went on when Todd looked confused, "Mother called him when we were at Brian's."

"So, your dad-Satan. Satan and the forces of Hell are out on the streets, scouring the town for a tiny baby beaver?" He tried hard not to laugh, but it was a losing battle.

"Yep. Turns out it's not from the System, so he thinks it might be a clue to the whole invasion thing." Holding out a hand to take Todd's and pull him to his feet, Pepito smiled too. "I'm glad you find it so amusing."

"Sorry, but I really do."

Pepito shrugged and patted his shoulder after releasing his hand and taking the empty mug. "Do you want the guest room?"

"With Karl Rove? Not really."

"Heh. Alright, Todd, I made that up so you'd stay with me because I thought I needed to watch you last time." He backed up toward the wall beside the door to set the mug on his bookshelf for the night. "If Karl Rove were to come here unannounced, it would be in demonic form and he wouldn't actually need to sleep."

"Oh."

"So, the guest room is safe."

Todd frowned. "And you'd … rather I sleep there?"

"I thought you wanted to last time."

"No. I was just kind of upset about that sucking joke."

"Ah. So, you want to sleep in my room?"

"Well, not if you don't want me to."

Pepito laughed a little, unsure why this conversation was so stiff and tense. "Todd, really, it's not a big deal either way."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Well, good night then." Uncrossing his arms from the position that they had found on their own, Todd grabbed the backpack he'd brought off the floor and walked the rest of the way across the room to open the door and step outside into the hall.

"Night, Amigo." This time it was Pepito who frowned as he slowly closed the bedroom door.

Todd leaned against the hall wall, willing himself to continue on to the guest room. At the same time, there was an ache inside that he thought might make him spend his night there crying. Deeply frustrated with himself and the feelings that he couldn't seem to quell, he stepped forward to knock on the closed door. A few seconds and the sound of shuffling feet later, Pepito opened it.

"Todd?"

"I changed my mind. Is that okay?"

"Sure. Do you need a sleeping bag?"

"I guess." He backed up against the door frame as he watched Pepito open the hall closet to pull the sleeping bags down from the top shelf. "Actually, I kind of need to talk to you."

"Alright. About Johnny?"

"Uh, no. About … us."

"Us?" Pepito tossed both sleeping bags onto his bed, then closed the door after Todd went back inside.

"Yeah." Todd looked down for another moment and forced himself to stopped fidgeting with his hands. "You know, well, maybe it's just me, but for the last couple weeks, it's felt like … kind of like it was when I was in the DHMI. Our friendship, I mean."

"Oh. Was it bad then?"

"Not bad. I just feel like you're holding back parts of yourself, and now that I'm aware of them, I guess pretending like they're not there seems sort of empty."

"Todd, I'm not really holding back; I just don't want to keep stressing you out. I told you that if you want to know something about my cause, you can always ask. And if you don't, then there's no reason for me to keep bringing it up. Not unless it's relevant to you, like with Dib and the Purists."

"Oh. Well, thank you."

"Is there something you'd like to ask me?"

"Yeah, there is, but it's not really about Hell and demons and stuff."

"Oh?"

"I mean, I do have questions about that stuff, but what I want to ask you now is … it's kind of personal."

As he leaned back against the wall of his room again, Pepito nodded. "Personal is okay."

After almost a full minute of silence on his part, Todd took a deep breath and then forced himself to start talking. "I'm confused about the thing with the kissing and stuff. I know you said you'd back off, but … we haven't really even talked about it since that time in the restaurant. Are we just going to forget all about that?"

"Is that what you want?"

"No. I don't know exactly what I want, but I think … maybe knowing what you want would help."

"It isn't really that simple for me either, though. The way I feel about you … it isn't some common adolescent crush. I don't mean that I'm in love with you; I mean that I actually really love you, as in you're my best friend and I want you to be happy. And if I'm not what makes you happy in that way, that's okay." Pepito smiled. "It's a little disappointing, but it's okay. I never really expected you to like me back."

"But you'd be happy if I did?" Even though his stomach fluttered with nerves, Todd found that the fuzzy feeling from before was back, and what's more, that it had started to seep out in his voice after Pepito's last words.

"Not if you're going to be afraid that I'll eat your soul every time I kiss you." He sighed when Todd's smile faltered because that special breed of adoring fondness was rare, and Pepito was usually of the opinion that rare things should be preserved. Still, this was something that he felt had to be said. "I know I might not talk about my feelings as much as you, but that doesn't mean I don't have any. When you assume those kinds of things about me, it actually does hurt."

"I wasn't … I didn't think that you would. It's a little creepy that you can, but I … I trust you. And you're right, I shouldn't keep assuming things. I'm just not really sure what to expect anymore."

"You can always ask. You won't always like the answer, but at least if you're afraid of me, it will be for a true reason. Maybe if you stop holding back with your questions, it won't feel so much like I'm holding back with the answers?"

"I know … and I'm sorry. I'll ask from now on … and I'll try really hard to assume less."

"Thank you." Finally, Pepito let the smile that had been knocking at his teeth free as he moved to sit on his bed. "So, you said you trust me. Really?"

"Yeah. I think I really do. I mean, in respect to me and our friendship and stuff. I'm still a little iffy about the stuff you do to other people sometimes. And I still haven't decided that Hell is the perfect afterlife destination."

Pepito nodded. "I can accept that."

"So, if I promise to try my best to not be afraid of you eating my soul and stuff, do you want me to like you?"

"I … yes. It's really no secret that you're my favorite person, so I guess you're my first choice for a lot of things, but I don't want to pressure you into thinking you need to like me back. I'm perfectly alright with platonic friendship if that's what you want. And I promise I can learn to keep my hands and lips to myself if I need to."

"I've noticed." Todd walked over to take a seat on the bed about a foot away from Pepito. "That nightmare thing with Shmee really freaked you out, huh?"

"Yeah. That and I realized that I wasn't really thinking enough about how all of this must be for you. You're … well, you haven't really had the chance to be a proper teenager yet. You probably shouldn't just jump into the first relationship that rears its utterly tempting head." His lips moved from a smile back into an almost flat line as his tone became more serious. "I don't want to lock you into something so soon, especially if we want it to have a chance to last past high skool. Plus, to be completely honest, I really haven't had a lot of experience with monogamy, and I'm not quite sure it's my thing."

"So, you don't want to go out with me?"

"Hey, I didn't say that. Let's say you're conflicted about it, right? You like me, but you're afraid of sex and commitment. Heh." Pepito nudged Todd's knee with his own. "Don't look at me like that. It's not that hard to tell."

"Fine. Yeah. You're right."

"And I like you. I really do. But I hate the idea of a perfectly fake relationship held together just for the sake of not failing, the possibility of us not being friends if it doesn't work out, of one or both of us forcing ourselves into certain roles just because it's what society says a relationship should be composed of … and the prospect of slipping up and hurting you because of it."

"Wow." Todd forced a small laugh. "And you call me pessimistic."

"It's not pessimistic; it's just that if we don't approach this carefully, it might not work. I really want it to work, but if it's not going to, I don't want to loose what we have now. You mean too much to me for that. Besides, you're still going to be curious about girls. And hey," he nudged him in the side with an elbow, "if your ancestry is any indication, the daughters of Adam should really go for it, huh?"

When Todd made a face and looked away after the last sentence, his fingers slowly unstrapping the sleeping bag closest to him, Pepito shifted closer. "Todd? I'm guessing that wasn't the best way I could have phrased that particular idea. I thought it didn't bother you."

"It didn't … doesn't." Todd looked back to Pepito after he'd freed the sleeping bag to unroll itself. "But that … does that mean that any human girls I might go out with would be … corrupted or something?"

"One can only hope." He shrugged. "Seducing them into corruption is the fun part really, but if not, there are always other fish tacos south of the boarder."

"What does that even mean? That Mexican women are easy?"

"No. They're quite the opposite in general. It wasn't supposed to be a geographical location, if you catch my meaning. It was just a joke. Maybe a bad one, but my other friends would have eaten it up. Get it?" He cracked smile when Todd started to blush. "At least I left off the guacamole warning for you."

"Eww."

"See." He smirked. "You'll want to avoid anything green, but sour cream is okay. Red sauce isn't bad, but it's an acquired taste for sure. I personally prefer it, but the timing has to be-ouch!."

"Enough with the taco metaphor!" Todd covered his ears for a few seconds after punching Pepito in the arm, even though he had already stopped talking. "I can't believe I followed that as long as I did."

"Me neither, but it was pretty sweet. Corruption, you know." Leaning back on the bed and bracing himself with his hands on the mattress, Pepito sent Todd a wink.

"Haha. Thanks a lot, Pep, but it was a serious question."

"Alright. Seriously then, it's possible, but only from a Christian perspective. Really though, who needs that kind of negative thinking anyway?" He dropped the grin when Todd gripped each of his own upper arms with his hands. "Amigo, listen. By 'corruption' the Bible means knowledge of all kinds: writing, art, medicine, magic, sexual techniques and, yeah, more advanced methods of war. That's civilization. It's what separates us from other animals, not for better or for worse, but for better _and_ for worse, at the same time. It's only absolutely bad from the perspective that free thought is sin, and that the only moral humans are mental and emotional slaves. And that isn't so much a moral philosophy as it is an agenda for power."

"I guess that's true."

"I think you know it's true. That's what the Watchers were condemned for, bringing knowledge, just like the serpent. It's all in the 'holy' texts."

"That and breeding with the human population, right?"

"Of course, and if I ever meet one, I'll going to personally thank them for it because otherwise I wouldn't have my favorite Nephil."

Todd's dimples pressed back into his cheeks slightly, but he fought back the frown that the title provoked. After all, he had just denied being bothered by it. "I've been reading pieces of the Book of Enoch online, and some of the things it says about the Nephilim are pretty gruesome, like that they were giants that the community couldn't sustain and that they starting killing and eating the humans and then each other when they had eaten all the food. I know that sounds far fetched."

"That's because it's pure propaganda, Amigo. You have to remember that history is written by the winners of cultural wars. The giant theory is biologically pretty unfeasible. Also, the Book of Enoch is a lot newer than the quotes from Genesis, where the Nephilim are referred to as 'heroes of old' and 'men of renown' because that's what they often were to the older civilizations before all Cambions started to be painted in a bloody, negative light. As for cannibalism, that was present all around the world far before recorded history, as evidenced by the wide spread of genes for resistance to protein-based diseases that turn the human brain to Swiss." He gave Todd a worried, scrutinizing look. "That's not why you decided you want this, is it? Because you can't make me any more sinful than I already am?"

"No, Pepi. I wouldn't just use you, even if I believed all that, which I really don't think I do." With a reassuring smile, Todd scooted closer so that their arms were nearly touching. "Now you're the one assuming things."

"Sorry."

"It's okay. I do kind of deserve it."

"No, you don't. I'm just not used to it yet. I haven't had any completely honest relationships of any kind with people who weren't already associated with Hell, and I never saw that kind of thing going very well. Also, I've had more sex than you probably care to know about, but I've only been in one real committed relationship before."

Todd nodded. "With Zita?"

"Yeah. And needless to say, that didn't work out so well."

"Why not? Er, if you don't mind sharing. You didn't really mention too many details before."

"Basically, we got too close, and I started feeling sort of guilty."

"Guilty?"

"Yeah. I cared about her, but I couldn't tell her the truth about me … and I started wanting to. I felt like the secrets were hurting the relationship and like it was unfair to her … which it was actually, because I was her first, and she thought we were being monogamous."

"But you weren't." Todd tried to look less disapproving, but his face seemed to demand a mild scrunching. "How's that related to the secrets?"

"Well, it's not completely. As I said before, I'm not so great with exclusive sex, but with Zita it felt like … like I was already hiding this huge chunk of my life from her, and that was just another part of it. I did stop hooking up with regular people from skool and the city, but not with demons and coven members. It felt justified because she could never really know that part of me. Looking back, I think I resented that the intimacy was so one-sided. It wasn't fair to either of us, so I told her I just wasn't cut out for it."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It was for the best, really. We both deserve more of certain things than we could give each other. Besides, we've become good friends since the break-up last year. Well, after she got over being angry at me."

"Does 'good friends' mean, uh, benefits?"

Pepito tilted his head to the side causally with a small laugh. "Yes, it does, among other things. But only when we're both free, which is practically always for me and almost never for her. We also have a lot in common: being part Latino, debate, student counsel, interest in global politics and affairs, a taste for Black Metal. After you, she's probably my second best friend. Oh, in case it comes up, she's the only other skool friend that knows about my Satanic leanings religion wise, and at some point she'll probably realize you know too. But I still haven't told her about my actually being a demon and all of that, so-"

"I won't tell her. Or anyone." A few long moments passed. "So, do you … you still have feelings for her, right?"

"Hum. That's a bit complicated, but I'm going to error on the side of 'no'. I think of the ideal romantic relationship as being companionship, sexual compatibility and commitment. Zita and I definitely don't have commitment anymore, and we never had anything like full disclosure, so the companion part can't be complete. And sexually, well, I've already told you why that didn't work."

"But you would have liked it to have worked out?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Is there anything wrong with that?"

"No."

"Does it bother you?"

"I don't know. I guess it shouldn't." Aside from a little uninvited jealousy, Todd thought it was probably a good thing. It meant that Pepito was capable of having deeply inmate feelings at least, unlike Gaz. And it meant that he knew how to let go and still be friends. Of course, his idea of friendship was a little different. "So, have you had sex with all of your friends?"

"Define sex."

"Wow."

Pepito grinned and nodded. "While true, that's a pretty broad definition there."

"Yeah, I think I can skip the definition part since your question already answered mine pretty well all on its own." Todd let his upper half fall back onto the bed, even though his legs were still dangling off where he had been sitting.

"If it helps, you'll always be my favorite."

"Even without the sex?"

"Even without … though that is kind of a pity."

"Ha. I'm flattered."

"As you should be." He nudged Todd's knee again.

"Oh, Pepi, you're so modest."

"I'm fully aware. And brilliant, charming, generous, brave, not to mention suave, original and irresistibly hot." With a laugh, Pepito leaned back as well, holding himself up on his elbows so that he could look down at Todd's face to ask a more sincere question. "Do you still like me?"

"... yeah." Todd looked away when he felt his cheeks heat up. "Although, I can't pretend that you being with so many people isn't kind of a deterrent, if only because of the health risks."

"I can understand that, but I'm always pretty careful and I get tested regularly. If you and I were going to try a committed relationship, we'd obviously have to agree on rules and boundaries. I'm not unwilling to compromise. With what you know, we'd have a better chance at it than Zita and me, but I'm still thinking that it would be best if we didn't just go straight for that option."

"That's probably true."

"So, how would you feel about trying causal dating?"

Todd rolled over to face Pepito and propped himself up on one elbow. "Define casual dating."

"Casual dating, as in you and me going out for dates with each other sometimes, with both of us able to to date other people. And, in this case, with no pressure or expectation for physical intimacy with each other … I'll let you set the bar for that one wherever you're comfortable with. This way, you can sort of test the waters, with me and with dating in general. And if it goes well, it will become more serious over time, and if that happens, then we'll decide the specifics of what we want it to mean. If it doesn't, then going back to our regular friendship won't be so hard either."

"It sounds like you've really thought this out."

"I have, actually, but only in the abstract. Feel free to object."

"No, I think it's good, at least in principle." It did seem like a pretty good fit for his own very mixed feelings of fears and wants. One of his eyes narrowed at Pepito. "You didn't read my mind for that, did you?"

"No, Amigo, just all the signals you've been giving out since that first kiss last month. It really wasn't that subtle, and when I thought about it, it was common sense for someone in your position … and in my own as well."

"Oh. Uh, I don't know what to say to that. I guess, I'm glad you figured it out."

"Me too. So, you wanna go on a date with me sometime?" He nudged a socked foot this time as his right hand crept over to to interlock with Todd's left.

Todd returned the grip as he smiled at the ceiling. "Sometime … but I don't know when. It'll probably have to be after Nny stops freaking out about Leon."

"My mother will probably watch him here while we're out, if we ask."

"Yeah, but that's kind of rude and wrong, since it's my fault we're here to begin with."

"Once again, so not your fault." Pepito shrugged. "Besides, she won't mind; she loves kids. Her original plan was to have two more after me, but she can't do that with with Father since he's not in the flesh anymore. And anyway, she already told Brian that she would be with Leon the whole time."

Todd frowned. "Couldn't she do it some other way? Or adopt, if she really wanted?"

"Yeah, but artificial insemination can take a long time to take if you do it the old-fashioned way, and Catholics aren't supposed to use lab-fertilized eggs."

"Oh, yeah. I've heard about that. It's based on research that shows that some genetic switches are flipped by the petri dish environment that can cause diseases, and those diseases get passed down the line after that … it's a process of epigenetics, and it's really freaky."

"Ugh. You mean the Vatican was right about something? I hate when that happens. Not good for the cause, you know." Pepito's smile turned a little bitter. "Actually, I think that's the real reason Madre hasn't adopted. When I was younger, she was afraid I would get jealous, but now I think it has more to do with her not wanting to risk getting anyone else involved in the family business, so to speak."

"Hum."

"What, you agree?"

"Well, not for all of the same reasons, probably, but … remember that thing you told me last time I stayed the night about you being initiated at thirteen? Do you really think that's a good age to decide something about the rest of you life … or eternity? Not to mention the sex part."

"I think it's the first permissible age, but, no, I don't think it's the best. And, like I said before, ritual sex is consensual. It's never required for initiation, but some people choose it. It's perfectly natural for a lot of young teenagers to want it. Even so, I'll admit that I did kind of pressure myself into it, and it wasn't as good as it could have been because of that. But most people do that to themselves their first time, not because they want it, but because they want it over with, according to mother anyway."

"So you wish you had waited?"

"Until I really wanted it, yeah. It probably wouldn't have been that much longer, maybe another year, but it would have been a lot more fun and fulfilling. That's a big part of why I don't want to pressure you into anything."

"Because you think I'm mentally thirteen?" Todd raised an incredulous brow.

"No. Some people just mature faster than others in different areas. I think, strictly when it comes to sex, that you're around where I happened to be at thirteen. You're a lot more emotionally mature, though. And in other ways too. I'm not trying to say that I think of you like a thirteen-year-old."

"Okay."

"Really?"

"That makes sense. And it's better than the twelve that Letta gave me."

"Twelve, huh?" Pepito smiled teasingly. "Maybe I'm just bumping the number up because it suites my own interests."

"Oh, please." With a roll of his eyes, Todd reached behind him to grip a pillow, then pulled it over his own body to hit Pepito in the shoulder with it.

Pepito grabbed the pillow and tucked it under his head. "Thanks."

"Sure." Pushing himself up into a sitting position, Todd blinked at the clock with tired eyes. "Pepi, it's like three-thirty."

"Mmm. We'll have to get up soon. Father will want to apprise us of the situation and … and things." He dropped his free hand over his eyes. "I don't want to move."

Yawning again, Todd climbed to his feet. "Come on." He pulled the hand that still held his own until Pepito was forced to catch himself when he nearly slid off the bed. After he watched him crawl back on and fix the sleeping bags, he turned off the light and slide into his own.

"Good night, Todd. Or what's left of it."

"Heh. You too." Todd closed his eyes, but something was still tugging on the curtails of his mind. He rolled over to face Pepito. "Hey, Pep?"

"Yeah?" Pepito pried his own eyes open by shear force of will.

"Does causal dating mean I can kiss you?"

One corner of his lip curved upward. "Todd, you can always kiss me. You get to set the bar, remember?"

"Always?"

"Any time you want. You don't have to ask."

"Okay." Even though he could feel himself blushing again, Todd leaned in to kiss Pepito once on the cheek and then once on the lips before laying his head back down on his pillow. He closed his eyes as a warm feeling flooded through his body when Pepito took his hand and kissed the back of it, entwining their fingers and letting their hands rest between them afterward.

When Todd's hand tightened on his own, Pepito scooted slightly closer to whisper next to his face, "'We are such stuff as dreams are made on.'"

Todd smiled without opening his eyes. "That's a nice quote, but you know it means we're an illusion, right?"

"Mm-hum. Not an illusion. Just in a short-lived, subjective reality, waiting to wake up and see the bigger truth. But in the mean time, there's no one I'd rather share my dreams with."

"Heh." Todd's smile widened. "Good save."

"I mean it."

"I know. Me too." As he shifted a little closer so that there were only about two inches between his face and their clasped hands, his breathing fell into a steady, content rhythm that would soon lull him to sleep. It struck him in a vague, fleeting way that he was happy, not just with the situation, but with himself. Even if it didn't work out, even if it proved to be a bad decision on his part, he was happy that he had stood up for what he wanted.

---------------Scene Shift--------------- The Next Day-Mid-morning ...

Dib let out a long, irritated sigh when the door bell rang yet again, this time in a quick succession that projected overlapping echoes throughout the house. Of course Gaz wasn't going to get it even though she was the one expecting company. Digging his heals into the carpet, he pushed his computer chair a few feet back from his desk, then climbed onto his twin-sized bed behind it on his knees to look out the window, down at the front door where a familiar green figure stood. "Zim! What's he doing here?"

"Agent Mothman, are you still talking to yourself out loud like that?"

"Uh, yeah." He cringed, then looked back over his shoulder at the floating monitor that displayed the dark outline of his one of his favorite long-time Eyeball contacts. "Look, Tunaghost, I gotta go. The alien is here."

"The 'alien', right. You mean the one you're dating?"

Dib's eyes narrowed slightly behind his glasses as he got back to his feet. "No. Like I said in the forum, I'm just pretending to date him."

"And you still haven't been able to collect any good data on this subject?"

"I'm … not sure." He shook his head. "I mean, I know he's an alien, but I don't really have hard, undeniable proof for the network yet." That and he wasn't sure he wanted to, at least if Zim was no longer a threat. The thought of turning him in now that he had been fired just felt a little to pathetic.

"So the situation is unchanged."

"I … guess you could say that."

"I did just say that, Mothman." Tunaghost tilted her head slightly to one side, away from the monitor, while one eye scrunched up smaller than the other.

Dib had always figured that gestured indicated a smirk, but it was hard to tell with the cloaking they used. "Right. So, I'll update the thread I started when my group and I decide on the location for our hunt on Halloween." The door bell rang again, followed by the sound of knocking. "I've really gotta go."

She nodded. "Very well. Good day, Mothman."

"Yeah, you too." He logged out of the Swollen Eyeball Network's private online database, then clicked off the video e-phone connection, which made the floating screen go black and raise itself into the compartment in the ceiling where it was usually stored. Then he ventured carefully out of his room, feeling lucky that the metal music coming from Gaz's room, which signified intense gaming, probably meant that she hadn't yet been enraged by the constant ringing below that he was headed toward. As he reached the door at the bottom of the stairs, he felt is stomach twist in unexpected nervousness.

Probably Zim was here because he needed to visit his base for something. That's what he usually came for now days, but there was always the possibility that he had come to announce a decision about whether or not he was still going to try to conquer the Earth, and Dib didn't know how to handle that. Of course, if Zim was still trying for the Earth, he would be stupid to announce that without first getting his technology back somehow. Since Zim was actually pretty stupid sometimes, that couldn't be ruled out, but it was less likely. That was the problem really. If Zim said that he wanted to leave and needed his base back, how could Dib know if he was telling the truth or not? And if he was, what then?

He forced himself to fling the door open with his usual abandon. "Zim! What are you doing here, Space-boy?"

Zim rolled his fake human eyes, his hands finding their way from the air, where they had been pounding on the door, to his hips. "I am here to engage you in that revolting and pathetic practice you humans call friendship."

"Jeez, it was just a question. You don't have to be sarcastic." He stepped back and opened the door wider so Zim could come in. "You need to go back up to the Moon Base?"

As he stepped inside, Zim lowered his hands to his sides and clenched his fists, telling himself that he was offended and angered by the Dib's dismissal. Those feelings were more acceptable than … other things that he was most certainly not experiencing right now. "Zim's words were not sarcastic. How dare you question them!"

"What? Are you serious? You … you want to engage me-"

"Psh. I knew it." Gaz snorted to herself as she walked passed them and into the kitchen. "If you two move to another planet, I'm taking over your room!"

"Wha?" Dib looked after her, momentarily confused before realizing where she had cut him off. "S-shut-up, Gaz!" He looked back to Zim. "So, you want to be friends? With me? Really? And it's not a trick?"

Eyes widening in horror, Zim took it upon his superior self to slam the front door shut in Keef's smiling, freckled face as he saw him approach from the side, then grabbed the Dib's wrist to drag him up the stairs and into his room before his scary Gaz-sibling decided to seek revenge or answer the door herself. He closed Dib's door as well before releasing him and staring him down impatiently. "You seem somehow more stupid than usual this lovely morning, Dib. But in answer to your poorly constructed question, yes."

No. This had to be a trick. Zim was trying to get his guard down so he could take back his base or even try to convince Dib to give it back to him! "But I thought that 'Invaders need no one'."

"Yes. That is a vital part of the Invader's Code, as we-they, have to spend years isolated from the Irken population, researching and conquering for the Empire. However, Zim is no longer an Invader. As you know, I am in the process of deciding what to do with my new promotional status, and now that I am no longer limited by the Invader's Code, I wish to try this … friendship that your people are so fond of."

"Wait." Dib wrapped one arm around his chest, resting his elbow on the lower fist and his chin on the resulting higher one. "When you say Invader's Code, do you mean like a code of agreement or like computer code?"

"Eh?"

"You know how humans sometimes agree to live by a set of principles, called a code? And how computers are programed with-"

"Yes! Zim is no imbecile! I am aware of your primitive human coding. You people recite some sort of statement, agreeing to function in certain parameters, then go off and do whatever you want instead. On Irk such behavior is not tolerated."

"Because it's computer code?"

"Pak code, Dib-thing."

"But that's not really the same, is it? I mean, you can't help but follow that code."

"Yes. The base code we receive as smeets functions as a type of secondary instincts." At least, that was true for most Irkens who weren't defective. One side of Zim's lips tightened into the beginning of a smirk. "Occupational programming is encoded when and if we attain our chosen jobs. So, we agree to it, then we are coded for it, and then we follow it."

"Because you have to, right?" Dib lowered his head slightly to gaze up at Zim with a suspicious look. "So, when you were … promoted … how did your Invader Code get deactivated if the Tallest didn't know where you were?"

"First, the code limits pathway development; it doesn't control it, so there is some room for differential growth. And, uh, second, the … the basic code contains programming that prompts us to release occupation coding when we are reassigned."

"So that's what you were doing with your pak after you saw the message from the Tallest?"

"Yep! That's it exactly."

"Zim, you even sound like you're lying when what you're saying makes sense." He shook his head.

"What, you don't believe the amazing truth of Zim?"

"Seriously? Of course I don't. I don't know if you're encoded as an invader or whatever anymore, but I do know I can't trust you. You just want your base back, but it's not gonna happen."

Emitting a low growl, Zim ripped his new 'emo' wig, which hid his lack of ears much better, from his head and tossed it onto the Dib's bed. "You want trust? Well, go ahead, take a picture of my true and glorious Zim-form!"

"You know as well as I do that I'll just be accused of Fotoshoping it like that time in eighth grade."

Zim stopped mid-poke, pulling his finger back from the contact that he was about to remove and flopping back to sit on Dib's bed beside his wig. "Fine! Don't be the friend of Zim. You're hardly worthy anyway, what with your massive head and its terrible lack of fluid absorbency. Just know that you'll be missing out on all of the friendly … chats that I came here to have about my home territory and how I do miss it so."

"You … you want to talk about your home planet?"

"Home territory, as I said. The planet is mainly for smeeting and control brains. But I'm sure you wouldn't be interested." Zim smiled widely as he stood back up. "Ah well! I'm sure Keef," he spat the name, "is still up for the position. And still so absorbent! Like a role of paper towels, that boy's head!"

"Wait!" Dib's body moved into Zim's path without so much as a conscious thought and his arm moved up to push him back into his former position on the bed. "I … I think we might be able to work something out. We could try to be friends, I guess, but don't think this means I'm giving you your base back or letting my guard down."

"Of course. You can't afford to let your guard get all droppy with someone of my outstanding ability around. Zim understands."

"Sure. Okay. So," Dib clasped his hands together as he took a seat on his computer chair, spinning it around to face Zim, "weren't you saying something a moment ago about needing to talk about Irken stuff?"

"I was, as a matter of fact." Now Zim smirked flat out, one of his lekki standing up though the other was still relaxed against the top of his head. Torque's advice about sharing the target's interests seemed to be working out quite well! Perhaps this whole 'friendship as a stepping stone' plan would pan out too! Once the Dib was his love-slave, he would give him back his technologies and follow him on whatever quest or conquest he decided to undertake. "But I didn't have anything specific in mind. Do you have any questions, Dib?"

Dib nodded vigorously, racking his brain for any of the thousands of questions that he generally asked himself late at night as he lay in bed going over all he knew, and had yet to learn, about Zim's race and other paranormal phenomenons. He had downloaded some files from Zim's Moon Base, which were invaluable, but sadly they consisted of straight up information without any explanations or context. As such, he had ended up with just as many questions as answers. "Oh, man! Okay, how about … uh, you know how I downloaded some files from your base? Well, with the diagrams for the pak … there are processors that breath in air and store carbon, hydrogen, oxygen and nitrogen, which are used to make amino acids to synthesize DNA. So, it seems like Irkens shouldn't need to eat, but you guys are obsessed with snacking. How come?"

"Well, Dib-worm, the answer to that is quite simple. The element binding process that you speak of is a passive system that works well for puny docile organisms like plants. For more mighty animals with faster metabolic demands, it is sufficient only to keep us alive in a near hibernation state. It works somewhat better for a 'cold-blooded' species such as Irkens than a 'warm-blooded' one like humans, but we still need more vitamins as well as more energy. Energy is easiest for us to digest in its most basic form of sugars and starches, which is why snacks are abundant in those things. So, all of that, plus snacks are just plain good."

"Humm. In extreme environments, you guys would need to conserve even more energy to fuel the paks that artificially elevate your body temperature. So, if you were really cold or hot and didn't have snacks, you'd go into hibernation?"

"Yes, once I ran out of stored energies, but that would take weeks or even months. And the pak would still act on its own in defense, so don't get any not so bright ideas, _friend_." He smiled viciously. "Plus, just because we prefer sugars and starches doesn't mean the pak can't handle proteins and fats if it has to."

"Proteins and fats …" His eyes widened. "Hey! I'm-"

"Oh, yes, that's right! You're made of proteins and fats, aren't you, Dib? And the President Man did say you were delicious that one time." Zim leaned forward with his hands on his knees. "I wonder if anyone would notice if you were, I dunno, missing some of those proteins."

"Yes! They totally would! You … you don't even … the Eyeballs would know! And Squee and Gaz would notice after a while. And the skool would report me to the police for truancy and they would find out."

"Yes, but you'd be alone. Secluded. With Zim and without sugars. Where no one could hear you scream."

"Gah!" Dib scooted his chair back toward his desk some. "Well, I'm not going to be in that situation, now am I?"

Zim shrugged. "Not unless you put yourself there."

"Why are you even creepier now that you're trying to be my friend than when you were trying to annihilate me down to my very last cell?"

"Maybe I like being creepy. Did you ever think of that? Creepy people get respect! And why are you still making plans to capture me?"

"I'm not!"

"You lie!" Zim suddenly backhanded the Dib across the face as white hot anger flared within his spooch, but this time it wasn't hard enough to knock him to the floor. Still, the red, three-fingered hand print left on white skin was satisfying enough for now. "If not then what was all that noise about how to get me into hibernation mode?"

Dib rubbed his cheek, glaring at Zim even though he felt a little ashamed now that he thought about the way he had asked that. "It was just curiosity. Besides, humans can't just flip a switch and turn on a friendship; that takes time. I'm still used to thinking about Irkens in terms of weaknesses and defense. It doesn't mean I'm planning anything."

"You'd better not be, Dib, because my revenge will be swift and squishy if I find out you are."

"Why … would it be squishy?" When Zim's eyes only narrowed more, he raised his hands in defense. "I'm not, okay?"

"Fine." Zim leaned back some.

"Fine," Dib mimicked, crossing his arms. The only sound in his room for the next few minutes was the low electric purr of his computer's inter-workings.

"Ask your next pathetic question already," Zim finally said.

"Uh, okay. There was this … instructional recording, I think, that I came across, and it … well, it was sort of confusing for me." When Zim only continued to stare at him, unimpressed, Dib swung his chair around to face his computer, browsing quickly through his files to find the right one. A part of him wanted to keep it to himself so that Zim wouldn't know he had ever seen it, but his curiosity was stronger, as usual. "Alright, this." He pressed play, and the monitor came back down from the ceiling to show the recording.

Zim's eyes bugged out for a second at what he saw on the screen. An Irken male and female each lay on their backs on a raised surface with soft padding that allowed their paks to sink easily into it so that they were level. Their heads faced opposite directions, their crotches faced each other's and their legs were tangled together. Because the camera was angled above them, you could still see what was happening pretty well, as per the educational intentions of the recording. As the two rubbed their cloacas together, hissing and humming out their pleasure, their squeedlyswirls emerged from the sticky, moist openings to intertwine together, wrapping around each other and caressing up and down. After several minutes of this, the swirls moved together into the male, pumping in and out before moving into the female, coated in jellies from her partner.

The swirl changed back and forth between them several times until Zim wanted to scream 'enough', but instead he crossed one leg over the other and attempted to look mature and condescending. Before his decoding a few weeks ago this wouldn't have bothered him so much. It would have been merely information that would hopefully turn out to be a waste of space in his pak. Still, the recording didn't last that much longer, and anyway, he could out wait the pitiful Dib-thing. Why, he was already turning pink again! It was a sweet payback for the human sex-ed that he had been forced to bear witness to.

Dib kept his eyes glued to the screen merely so he wouldn't have to face Zim while it played out. He felt his face starting to burn a little when the two Irkens scooted closer and closer until they were pressed together and you could just barely make out the organs between them moving at all. They rubbed against one another, seemingly trying to get closer, thought it wasn't possible, until both of their bodies spasmed and then went limp, leaving them in an awkward tangle of limbs that would have been highly uncomfortable for a human.

After that, Dib turned back to his computer, taking extra time to try to suppress his embarrassment before switching the program off and turning back to Zim. "Ahem," he cleared his throat, "so, yeah. That."

Zim raised a brow ridge. "Yes? 'That' is Irken mating. What about it?"

"Well, obviously, but, uh …. two things, actually. One: I thought Irkens didn't reproduce naturally."

"Preferably, we don't. That recording is … sort of a backup method. It is used so rarely that the technique isn't common knowledge. The visual image is less abstract than the definitional information that the pak has, so … eh, it's supposed to make the attempt more efficient because if it was to happen, it would be because it needs to happen, because of an accident or attack on the Smeetery." He looked away for a moment at that, flashes of the several planet-wide blackouts he had caused on Irk running from his pak and through his brain and reminding him that there were a few 'natural' born Irkens in the Empire as he spoke. In fact, it was likely that he was personally responsible for these recordings being so widely distributed. And he was probably still the only one impressed by that!

"Okay. But you still have the capacity, apparently."

"Wrong, feeble Dib-thing! Uh, I mean, we only have the capacity if the reproduction prohibiting hormonal control in the paks is deactivated. Otherwise, Irkens are infertile and largely asexual in desire."

"Oh. Wow, that's a lot of control. I guess that makes sense considering how fascist your government is."

"Yes, yes. Sexual desire and smeets born of such bonds could pose a threat to the Empire. It could also yield undesirable genetic results if it wasn't closely monitored, such as the freakish mutants and inferior specimens that can be seen on this ball of dirt."

"Right. So, secondly, Irken sex is weird."

"Eh? Weird? So hideous and weird is it? And you think that huymun sex is normal and not disgusting to us?"

"Uh, no. I don't mean the act of sex … although, yeah, not normal. That's not necessarily a bad thing, though. But what I mean is the … the male and female characteristics of Irkens. They don't really have that much in common with humans. According to the information on your files, the females have heterogeneous sex chromosomes like human males … the Irken symbols are E and F, I believe."

"Yes."

"Because they have the heterogeneous chromosomes, the females determine the sex of the offspring. Maleness is determined by a hormonal dose system, sort of like in birds. The E chromosome carries one dose of the male hormone, so one dose is female and two is male. And the equivalent of mitochondrial DNA is passed down by the males and deactivated in females."

"Yeah, yeah. Zim knows all this. Get to the point."

"The point is that everything I just said is the opposite in humans. The only thing that's the same is that both Irken and human females carry babies. Except Irkens lay those jelly egg things."

"I don't see what you're confused about. All of that is accurate to the extent that your human brain can probably understand it."

"Yeah, but … on Earth sometimes the males carry the offspring, like with Seahorses. And sometimes neither sex carries it, like with most fish and frogs. So, if carrying babies isn't what defines femaleness, then wouldn't it make more sense to reverse the Irken sexes and say that Irken males carry offspring?"

"No. No, it wouldn't."

"On, come off it, Zim. What else is there? Besides what I said before, there aren't any other sex differences between Irken males and females. You have the same sexual parts … which I'm still confused about, the same basic kind of jelly that mixes genetic stuff together, very similar internal sex organs. And don't give me the eyebrow and antenna thing because we both know those are superficial secondary sex characteristics. It's like human facial hair and breasts."

Zim's face scrunched up at the thought and both his lekki lowered a few centimeters. "It is nothing like those disgusting things! Nothing! Although, secondary, yes; its only role in reproduction is a signal to help males and females recognize each other through sexual desire. But unlike your human thingies, it's not disgusting."

"Whatever. So why are you male?"

"Dib-thing, if you so much as emit a sound bite of this at skool-"

"No. Don't worry. This has nothing to do with those rumors at skool, which I didn't start by the way. I always figured you completely lacked sex organs until this year, so if it was me, they would have called you a eunuch instead of a girl."

"How very comforting."

Dib shrugged. "It wouldn't have drawn Chunk's attention. At least not sexually."

"Chunk." His eyes narrowed once again. "One laser cannon, Dib. That's all I ask."

"I'll think about supervised use, but you have to answer the question."

"Eh? What question?"

Dib sighed, though he was used to the absent-mindedness by now. "Why are you male?"

A slow grin crept onto Zim's face. "I'm not."

"What? Really? You're admitting it, just like that?"

"Sure, what does Zim care about your stupid human social conventions? Nothing, that's what! So there! Take that, lowly human norms! Though I may bow politely to you in front of dull human gazes, remember that I, Zim, will always be above you!"

"Nice outburst, Zim. You sure showed that abstract comment who's boss." Dib shook his head yet again.

"Why, thank you."

"Right. Then why did you pretend to be male all these years? Just because less guys would try to get with you sexually?"

"Nah. I didn't really worry about that at first. I didn't plan to be here this long. It was basically just another way to be normal since humans like to present themselves as coming in only two flavors of sex." He rolled his eyes at Dib's confused look. "I'm not female either, or even both or in-between like some humans. So, even though I'm sure you would like to believe that I'm female to offer yourself some small human comfort in terms your revolting lurve for Zim, it is not so. You might as well release that thought from your huge head now."

"Oh. So … that's very … wow." Dib ran a hand through his hair. Even though he was used to the paranormal, it was still a little amazing and strange sometimes when things just straight up refused known classification … especially when you considered that classification was probably the cornerstone of human thought. "And, uh, I don't love you either way. And my head's not big."

"Poor little Dib, so afraid to admit defeat." Zim shook his head slowly back and forth. "You humans, you know so very little about the universe, yet assume so much. Most highly developed races have two sexes, about sixty to seventy percent, because it's optimal for genetic mixing. However, the two sexes aren't just alike for most of us unless we're related somehow, like Irkens, Vortians and Orkiens. While we have two sexes, they are not male and female in the human sense.

I choose to be male on Earth because it seemed like a better translation of my sex than female based on the language of your people. On Earth, males are the power majority in most cultures and their pronouns are more abundant in writing. On Irk, my sex is the numerical majority, and our pronouns are also more abundant."

"Whoa. Hold on. That's … I don't know where to start. You choose your sex based on pronouns? That seems … kind of stupid. And there are less Irken females? And Irkens are related to Orkeins?"

"No, Dib-worm, not on pronouns, but on the status those pronouns represent. Irken 'females' aren't discriminated against like human females tend to be, but there are very few of them. They make up about two percent of the population."

"Oh, let me guess. It's another method of population control by the Empire, right?"

"You know, you really aren't quite that stupid, despite what people say."

"What? What do people say?"

"Oh, nothing. But, yes, it is a method of population control, but a more sophisticated one than the pak controls. You see, Irken females are a product of genetic recombination, while males like myself are a product of cloning. The recombination usually still takes place in the smeetery, of course, and only the superior female embryos are chosen to grow to decanting."

"Uh, if you're all clones, then how can your society be based on height? Wouldn't you all be the same height?"

"There are several lines of clones in each generation to ensure that there will be the correct number of Irkens in each social rung. Also, other things besides genetics affect Irken growth: snack intake, atmospheric composition, gravity, amount of time spent in hibernation or stasis… and in my case sheer mightiness."

"Ah. So did you spend like a whole century in stasis or something?" Dib flinched when Zim raised his hand as if to smack him again. "Just so you know, hitting isn't considered friendly behavior on Earth."

"Oh, I'm sorry, friendliest buddy. My mistake." Zim spoke in his usual fake reassuring voice with a large smile before letting his voice and face drop back to normal. "And I have spent a fair amount of time in stasis pods because of my … propensity to get … assigned dangerous missions. I've been in a lot of explosions."

"Somehow that's not surprising."

"Anyway! As I was saying, the females are not clones, and they provide a continual supply of genetic diversity that is available during what you call natural mating and to the control brains who occasionally modify genes in lines of clones. Because they are not clones, they are more prone to uniqueness and are more variable than males in height, intelligence, physical fitness and other areas. For example, while they are only two percent of the population, they make up roughly twelve percent of Tallest and Tallers in Irken society. Of course, with uniqueness, they run a greater risk of defectiveness, but some level of nonconformity is more tolerated for females because they are so few and because that risk is the accepted pay for keeping such useful genetic diversity."

"But if they're just two percent of the population, that's not a lot of offspring if the, uh, smeet factory thing is down, unless … how many eggs to Irken females lay? And what is defectiveness? Like insanity?"

"Eh. Defectiveness is just … just extra uniqueness that breaks past the limits of the basic coded pathway parameters; kind of like how people call you insane for your belief in that ... para-science stuff you believe."

"Para-science stuff I believe? You mean like how I believe you're an alien? And you don't?" He reflected for a second. "But, hey, you called it para-science instead of 'crazy parachuting nonsense'! So, I guess that's an improvement."

"Yess, such an improvement," Zim muttered lowly. "I have, uh, come to find some elements of it to be interesting actually. And don't forget: from Zim's perspective, you're the alien … the furry, stinky, pig-like alien!"

"Hey! Humans are not pig-like! And anyway, you never answered my question: how many eggs?"

"Errr. It varies, I think. Usually between one and seven, depending on how much jelly was shared and the size of the mother's pooch. The small number of females isn't really a problem since when the smeetery goes down for a while, some of the males are feminized."

"... Feminized? You mean they can get pregnant?"

"If the pak represses one of the E chromosomes, then they only have one dose, so the male hormones fall below the female ones and the males start making those kinds of sex cells. When feminized males mate with other cloned males, their offspring are less genetically diverse than the offspring of true females, but it keeps the soldiers well stocked."

"Wow, so _you_ could get pregnant?"

"Eww! No! Zim is … Zim is not going to bloat his perfect Zim-belly with congealing globs of forming smeets!"

"But you could … that's disturbing."

"No! I couldn't! I am male and I will stay that way! No more talking!"

"Aw. But, Zim, this is-"

"No! I said no more! We will speak of something else! I … Zim would like to go on your Halloweenie hunt! Therefore, you shall invite me and you shall feel honored. Invite me now." His voice dropped lower on the last word, as if he was savoring the way it tasted leaving his mouth.

"This better not be some kind of plan to use the paranormal to take over the Earth."

"Noo! Don't be silly." Zim swiped at the air in between them.

"How about _you_ don't be silly, Zim?"

"Eh? Zim, silly? Don't be sil-er … don't be ridiculous. Zim would never be such a thing as silly."

"Uh-huh. Call it whatever you want, but you do it. A lot." He smirked. "It's probably why you've been in so many explosions, and I don't want my ghost hunt to end that way."

"Fool! You know nothing about why Zim explodes."

"Ha! Yeah, I do. You've taken me with you enough times over the years, and it's because you act without thinking." Actually, though Zim could still get pretty maniacal, he definitely seemed be becoming a little more stable and intelligible. It had started last year a short time before Dib had spied Zim sleeping, actually sleeping, despite the claim that Irkens didn't need to sleep. Now he seemed even more calm and collected since the Tallest had fired him, which could either be related to his sleeping more because of depression and a lack of things to do or to his supposedly loosing his Invader code ... or even something to do with the new body. Still, Zim was more than capable of ruining a paranormal investigation or anything else that he got too excited about.

"Your gigantic head is inflated with filthy lies, Dib-beast, like a hot-lie-balloon! It's why the teaching drones always say your head is in the clouds! But, fine. Zim will follow your para-rules on this mission ... within reason."

Just as he was about to question what Zim could possibly know about reason, there was a knock on his bedroom door and then it opened to reveal Squee, Pepito and Keef, the last of whom was speaking at the other two with his characteristic speed and enthusiasm that nearly ran together as it entered Dib's ears. Behind them, Gretchen leaned silently against the hall wall, where she raised a hand to give him an annoyingly shy wave. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zim pull his wig back on, then he swung his own hand through the air, palm out, in a quick greeting before pulling Squee inside. If he didn't he knew that he would stay where he was until Keef shut up in a misguided attempt to be nice.

"So, for the Carnival's Halloween celebration, I'm dressing up as an evil clown! And we're getting some spooky bands like Animal Underscore, Beast's Accent and Crete Feetz to play! It's going to be so much fun! You guys should come and check it-"

"Sorry, Keef, no time to talk," Dib interrupted as Pepito walked in, "We have a meeting right now." As soon as they were both inside he closed the door again, locking it this time as well. Hopefully Gaz would get over her popularity designs soon and leave Keef where he belonged, which was far, far away. "So, what's up?" he asked Squee.

"Umm, well, we have a little more information about the Veelorb thing, and we kind of need your help."

"Of course. As the Earth's defender, I'm always ready to help, you know, defend it. As long as it doesn't involve going with Keef to the carnival."

"Thanks." Todd let the backpack that he was wearing fall off his shoulder, then started rummaging inside. "You know how Shmee attacked my neighbor that time?"

"Yeah."

"And you know how my neighbor is crazy? Well, there was another Veelorb masquerading as a magical baby beaver that he thought was a head-voice. He broke into Brian's house because ... because he's all crazy and stuff, and I knocked him out. The beaver was there, so I chased it out into the street, and it ... well, it sorta purposefully jumped in front of a truck on the road to kill itself. And then I found this." He pulled out a small glass container with a flat, black top out of the bag. It was filled two-thirds of the way with a clear liquid, and at the bottom there was a small white thing that looked to be about half the size of a marble. It was too smooth and too perfectly round to be bone, but the color was right ... or would have been had the thing not be cracked and shattered. It was nearly in two separate pieces, and tiny parts could be seen inside and littering the liquid around it that looked mechanical. It had actually been recovered by a minion of Satan that had chased the beaver down a few blocks away from the hospital, but he couldn't tell Dib that.

Dib took the glass container cautiously. "So, the Veelorb can possess animals as well as people? And what is this exactly?"

"My father had the leftover parts from the beaver's body tested at one of the medical research labs he has a business contract with," Pepito said, "The report said that the body was that of a living Earth beaver, but it was a Chimera. It's brain cells were roughly sixty percent human, meaning that it was grown and engineered in a lab. It also had this implant attached to its spinal cord."

Todd nodded. "We think since it was attached to the spinal cord that the Veelorb used it to control the beaver directly instead of using it like a regular host. And we're also sort of hoping that maybe this is what Bitter's people use to keep them contained in an object, since Waffles … well, it seemed like he needed to destroy it to get away from me, like he didn't want me to catch and question him."

"Waffles?"

"That's what Johnny said it was called."

"Humm." Rubbing his chin contemplatively, Dib held the container up in front of his glasses to get a better look. "That sounds like a good theory to test."

"We were hoping that maybe you and Zim could look at it in his base. And maybe if it's what we think it is," Todd looked to Zim, who was more likely to have the answer, "do you think you could make a new one?"

Snatching the jar away from Dib to analyze it with his with his own amazing, and implant enhanced, eyes, Zim nodded. "It's likely. The individual technologies that are merged together in this device aren't that complex. And with this I should be able to find the perfect frequency to hold a Veelorb."

"Good job, Squee!" Dib clasped a hand on his shoulder. "Now we'll have our first real defense against Shmee's species. And now we know for sure that Bitters and Shmee aren't the only ones on Earth. This is a good start. A not so great situation, but a good start."

"Yeah. Thanks." Todd zipped his backpack back up. "If you get it to work, can you set one aside for me?"

Zim raised a brow ridge. "Are we trying to trap the Shmee-monster again?"

"Uh, yeah, kind of. If we can get him out of Leon."

"When do you need it by?"

"Before Fall Break if you can manage it."

"That should be doable since the brain of Zim is made of sheer genius. You may tell the victim child that he will be alone in his puny body again soon enough!"

One of Todd's eyes narrowed slightly. "I thought I told you not to call him that. And he doesn't know yet, so don't say anything."

"Wait," Dib said, "how are you gonna get him out? You don't really know anything about the paranormal," he looked specifically at Pepito, "do you?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business."

"Why?" Dib took a step closer. "Got something to hide?"

"No. Do you have a valid reason to pry?"

"Maybe."

"You won't know until you do, right?" Pepito rolled his eyes. "If you must know, I know a little. My grandmother, however, knows quite a bit. She's a curandera and an kollege lecturer on comparative magic around the world. She'd got experience in soul recovery and energy work. Over the break she's going to be at one of my family's vacation homes, and she said she'd take a look at Leon." He shrugged. "It might not work, but it'd still be nice to be able to detain Shmee if it does."

"You know this could be pretty dangerous, right? Shmee's not exactly like a human soul."

"I know. I just said it might not work. My grandmother knows enough to stop when it's too dangerous. Besides, for all we know, it could be even more of a risk over time to leave him where he is."

"True, but I still think you need someone else who's qualified to be there for backup. Someone with experience with aliens."

"Someone like you?"

"Exactly."

"Sorry. Not going to happen. I would be in trouble already if my grandmother knew I was telling you she actually does serious magic work. It could make her lose credibility in some academic circles, which her job depends upon, so we're supposed to keep it low key."

Dib frowned. "But that's exactly the problem! Keeping it secret is just going to reinforce the taboo against the paranormal in mainstream academia. It shouldn't be something you can only come out about if you fail in more respected fields. That just makes us look like a bunch of hacks and losers."

"Hm. Yeah. Maybe I'll mention that to her, but Todd and I have to be going now." Pepito forced a small smile. "Thanks for your help."

"You don't wanna go with us to the Moon Base?" Dib asked.

"Uh, we really can't. We've got tickets for this play that's not going to be showing much longer." Todd rubbed the back of his neck as he slid his backpack back on and decided not to mention that they were taking Señor Diablo's personal jet to New York to see it ... or that it was going to be their first date together. He knew it was more than a little too much, but Pepito had insisted that he wanted it to be something that Todd would remember forever for a nontraumatic reason. So, his first date was also going to be his first plane ride, which was only slightly scary after the spaceships he'd been in, and his first trip to New York. And he was going to meet one set of Pepito's grandparents who still lived there, which did make him nervous.

"Alright." Dib shrugged. "Well, have fun and all."

"We will. See ya on Monday. And thanks." Todd flashed him a grin on the way out of his room.

"No problem." Dib looked down at the container that he was still holding. "Well, what'd ya wanna do now, friend?"

"To the Moon Base!" Zim pointed up toward space, then withered slightly at the thought of trying to get the Gaz-beast to drive them when she was busy. "Uh, you finished modifying that escape pod to take us back up, right?"

"Yeah. Hey, maybe I can download some more files." Dib smiled at Zim's pained look. Maybe being friends with him wouldn't be so bad. Even if it was a trick, it was working out pretty sweetly for him.

* * *

END CHAPTER!

Notes:

-The Rogue Impact is an event that occurred in the SubAwake universe around 2050AD. The remains of a rogue, busted up planetary system and gathered debris came in from outside the elliptic on a crash coarse with Earth. Because of the positioning, it wasn't discovered far ahead of time, but Earth still managed to divert the biggest bits. Smaller pieces rained down, striking the surface in various places around the globe, causing environmental damage and setting the progress of civilization back a little. This near--apocalypse that set back progress and caused some loss/distortion of culture (usually to a ridiculously uneven degree) kind of thing is an old Scifi troupe that is hinted at/parodied in IZ. There will likely be more on this event and its relevance later on.

Protein diseases from and for cannibalism: http : //www . Timesonline . Co . uk/tol/life_and_style/health/features/article3215917 . ece

epigenetics: http : //www . Pbs .

"We are such stuff as dreams are made on." is a quote from "The Tempest" by William Shakespeare. More info about the context: http : //www . Enotes . com/shakespeare-quotes/we-such-stuff-dreams-made

-When I call Irkens "cold-blooded" I am just referring to their innate (pakless) body temperature regulation/respiration efficiency- not necessary their hearts having two chambers and other traits common to Earth-based cold-blooded animals. Since they're aliens, they're probably not going to fit very well into any Earth-based category. The reason I think they're probably cold-blooded without paks is because of: 1. Their reptile and insect like aspects, 2. their resting posture reminds me of my lizards- the way they just leave their body parts (especially hands) in awkward positions without being bothered by it could be related to same kind of energy conservation often found in reptiles-they move less than mammals and their metabolism is slower.

-Most of the info about Ikrens is my own interpretation (one of the fun things about IZ is that everyone has their own). Here's an interesting book (that partly inspired my interpretation) on Xenology that's mostly online: [link]

-In case you're confused, Zim is lying about the Basic Code telling him to change his own Invader Code because he was actually still coded as a Food Service drone the whole time he was on Earth, but he's embarrassed. He also doesn't want to admit to being a defective, so he's pretending that he's not a freak because he can change is own code.

-Example of lab-made Chimeras: http : //www .

-A curandero (or curandera for a female) is a traditional folk healer or shaman in Hispanic America, who is dedicated to curing physical or spiritual illnesses.

-Animal Underscore, Beast's Accent and Crete Feetz are all lame attempts to come up with a name for an AU (SubAwake) Creature Feature, so all their music is a little bit in that vein.

-The New York set of grandparents are Minnie and Roman (and he does actually consider them grandparents in SubAwake, though only Roman is biologically), but I don't know if they'll actually show up in this story. I'm probably not going to write about their date because it won't advance the plot.


End file.
